The Ancient Highland Curse
by SnowPrincess88
Summary: Based on the 70s show. The boys stumble onto a murder as Joe takes a tour of an art exhibit to satisfy a class requirement. They soon find themselves trying to stay one step ahead of an ancient curse...and stay alive in the process.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Frank Hardy turned as a loud, crashing sound reached his ears. "Joe," he sighed, "what are you doing?"

His brother scrambled to pick up the headphones he'd just knocked off the metal stand in the lobby of the Bayport University Art Museum. "Trying to get this audio equipment for the self-guided tour." He scooped up a handful of headsets and placed them on the counter, then jiggled the stand. "This dispenser thing doesn't seem to be working right."

Frank returned to his brother's side. "Are you really going to remember enough information from this exhibit with a self-guided tour?"

"Why not?" he asked. "Put on the headset, stop in front of the painting, press the button to listen, move on to the next painting. Simple, easy, and we're out of here."

Frank shook his head. "You have absolutely no appreciation for the finer things in life, do you?"

"Frank, they're paintings," Joe countered. "I'm sure they're wonderful in their own way, but I've got other things to do. This Humanities class is sucking up way too much of my time, already. So, let's just get this over with so I can turn in my ticket stub and my report to Professor Ayres next week." He got on his knees to pick up the remaining headsets.

"Can I help you?" a female voice asked.

Joe turned and saw a pair of black pumps directly in front of him. His eyes traveled upward along a shapely pair of legs. Further still to a black skirt, cinched in with a wide belt around a tiny waist. His eyes moved to the crisp, white shirt above it, hugging the sexy curves of its owner's upper body. Joe's gaze lingered there for a moment. He noticed the long, dark, softly waving hair that reached past the shoulders. He pulled himself to a standing position, taking in full, smiling lips. His eyes wandered past a sweet, dainty nose, and stopped when they reached the greenest pair of eyes he'd ever seen.

For the first time in his life, Joe Hardy didn't know what to say. All he could do was stare at what had to be the most beautiful woman in the whole world. And she was standing right in front of him.

Frank stepped in to save the day. Clearing his throat, he extended his hand toward her. "I'm Frank Hardy. This is my brother Joe." He paused, but Joe still didn't say anything. "Um, we're students here, and we need to tour an exhibit for an assignment in our Humanities class."

The young woman smiled at both of them, and Joe thought his heart might have stopped beating. "Ahh, yes, the 'cultural experience'. Humanities 101, right?"

Joe managed to give a nod.

"Well, you've come to the right place." She gestured toward the headphones Joe had knocked over. "And, as you can see, the audio tours aren't the most reliable."

Joe swallowed hard, and finally found his voice. "I-I'm really sorry about that."

"No worries." She smiled again and Joe felt the breath go out of his body completely. "You're not the first person to do that. You're not even the first person to do that today." She glanced between them. "So, would you like a personal tour?"

"Do, do you work here?" Joe managed.

"No, Joe," Frank cut in with a grin. "She just stands in the lobby waiting for people to look as incompetent as we do; then she offers to rescue them."

Joe looked sheepish. The young woman reached out and touched his arm, smiling sweetly. "It's okay. Really. Don't worry about the headsets. I've been begging for the museum to upgrade them for an entire semester. Every time someone else knocks them over, it helps my cause." She extended her hand. "I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Emily Clark."

Frank shook her hand warmly, then she turned to Joe. "Nice to meet you," she said.

He closed his hand around hers, noticing how soft and warm it was. "Nice to meet you, too."

"Oh, and I'm not really an employee here," she explained. "Well, I mean I am, but it's not for the money, it's mainly for credit. I'm a student, too. I'm majoring in Art History and French."

"Really?" Joe asked. "You know, I've always been interested in art history."

"Oh, so you're not one of those guys who's only here for the assignment, then? Or because you didn't want to sit through an opera for your 'cultural experience?'"

Frank burst out laughing. "Give it up, Joe. She's got you pegged."

Emily giggled, and Joe found his heart beating faster at the sound. "It's okay. I really enjoy giving tours to people who don't know much about art." She gave him a teasing look. "But I warn you, I will try to convert you into a museum junkie. We need lots of patrons, or I won't have a job when I graduate."

Frank gazed around. "I've actually thought it would be very cool to work in a museum. Unlike my brother here, I really do like art."

Joe shot him a look, as Emily turned her attention toward Frank. "That's great to hear. What's your major?"

"Criminal Justice," Joe interrupted. He gestured between them. "It's both of our majors. Our dad is a private investigator and we're planning on going into business with him when we graduate."

"Really?" Emily's eyes grew wide. "That sounds exciting. And kind of dangerous."

"It can be," Joe replied. "It's all part of the territory."

Frank rolled his eyes and made a gagging motion at Joe over Emily's head.

"Do you work with your dad now?"

"Yeah, quite a bit, actually," Joe continued, ignoring his brother as they began walking towards the "Masters of Impressionism" exhibit. "We love the chance to solve a good mystery."

"Isn't that hard to fit in with school?" Emily wanted to know.

"No, not really." Joe maneuvered himself so that he was right next to Emily, and Frank was a step behind both of them. Frank shook his head and moved to Emily's other side.

"Dad's pretty good about the cases he assigns us to," Frank explained. "We do most of our serious work during the semester breaks or in the summer."

"Unless we just happen to stumble upon something." Joe paused in front of a large archway with a sheet hanging in front of it. "This for example," he gestured, "looks very suspicious." He grinned at Emily. "What's behind the mysterious curtain?"

Frank rolled his eyes and Emily giggled. "I can assure you," she began, "nothing the least bit exciting. At least for now. In two weeks, it's going to be an exhibit on the legends and lore of Scottish clans, though."

"Clans?" Joe repeated. "As in fighting and claymores and other weaponry?"

"The very same," she smiled.

"Oh, man, why couldn't my paper be due a month from now?" he lamented. "I actually would have wantedto check out that exhibit."

Emily feigned shock. "And you don't want to tour the 'Masters of Impressionism?'"

Joe grinned. "Well, not at first. But it's suddenly become a whole lot more interesting to me."

Frank almost groaned. Instead, he cleared his throat. "Who's your favorite Impressionist, Emily?"

Before she could reply, a loud scream tore through the air. Joe swiftly turned his head. It echoed through the sheet blocking the entrance to the future clan exhibit.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Joe and Frank exchanged worried glances, and Joe quickly pushed aside the sheet and stepped into the exhibit room, followed by his brother and Emily. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the dim lighting provided by the temporarily strung up fluorescent fixture across the room. A blonde young woman dashed toward them, a panicked expression on her face.

"I think he's..." She paused, gasping, her hand covering her throat. "Oh please, help. Please." Her voice dropped. "I think he's dead."

"Who's dead?" Frank asked, stepping forward.

"I, I don't know," she stammered. "I couldn't see his face." She gestured across the room to where scaffolding, tools and construction equipment lay scattered. "He's over there." Her hands shook as she covered her mouth and whispered, "It's horrible."

Joe dashed off in that direction with Frank on his heels. Emily stepped over to the girl and put her arm around her shoulder.

"Frank? What's she talking about?" Joe asked, stopping in the center of the area being worked on. He cast his gaze around in a circle. "Do you see anyone?"

"No," Frank said. He stepped towards the scaffolding and over to an area that was being transformed into a replica of a medieval castle. He stopped short. "Joe, over here."

Joe rushed to his brother's side and uttered an expletive. A man was draped over a wheelbarrow; his head completely submerged in its contents. Both brothers hurried over and knelt beside him.

"I'm not feeling a pulse," Frank said, as he gripped the man's wrist. "In fact, he's cold."

"This is plaster." Joe looked up. "It's hardened already."

Emily approached them, and Frank positioned himself between her and the body. "I couldn't get Kim to explain what happened," she said worriedly. "She just ran out saying she had to call the police." She tried to peer around Frank, but he continued to obscure her view of the wheelbarrow. "Please," she began. "If something's wrong here, I need to know." She stepped quickly to her right and gasped. Covering her mouth with both hands, she whispered, "Is he...?"

"He's dead," Frank said grimly.

Her eyes widened. "Dead?"

"Yeah," Joe stood up and walked toward Emily. He took her by the arm and steered her away from the body. "Tell us more about this room. What's going on in here?"

"Um…" Emily paused, clearly shaken by what she'd seen. "W-we're getting it ready for the exhibit. Making the room look like an old Scottish keep."

"So, anyone can walk in here? There's no security?" Joe asked.

"Well, there are signs warning patrons not to enter; that it's a construction zone, so to speak. The security guards are here to protect the artwork. They don't usually come back here. There's nothing to guard." She stared up into Joe's eyes. "It's never been a problem."

He nodded. "Until now."

"Do you have any idea who this might be?" Frank asked.

Emily shook her head. "N-no." She turned to Joe, still trying to comprehend what had happened. "Somebody _murdered _him? Here? In the museum?"

Joe's face was grim. "That's what it looks like."

The curtain parted again and Kim returned, this time with another man in tow. Joe estimated him to be in his early thirties; and if he'd been reading a dictionary entry of "tall, dark and handsome", this guy's picture would have been right next to it. Kim pointed in their direction and the man jogged over to them.

"What on earth is going on here?" He spoke with a Scottish brogue. "Who are you two?" He stared at Frank and Joe.

"They're patrons, Duncan." Emily stepped forward. "We heard Kim scream and came back here to see what was going on."

Frank and Joe moved aside and allowed him to observe the wheelbarrow and the body.

"Good God!" His face drained of all its color. He dashed toward the wheelbarrow, but Frank held him back.

"Not until the police get here."

Duncan shook him off. "This is my museum. Don't tell me what I can or can't do."

"This is a crime scene," Joe replied, stepping closer to Duncan. "If you touch the body, you may destroy evidence."

Emily spoke in a measured tone. "They're detectives, Duncan. Please listen to them; they know what they're doing."

He looked down at her, his expression softening, and sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. "Okay, you're right. I don't want any evidence destroyed." He extended his hand to Frank and Joe. "Duncan MacLean. I'm the assistant director here."

Frank held out his hand. "Frank Hardy. This is my brother, Joe."

Duncan nodded as he shook Frank's hand, then Joe's.

"Do you have any idea who the victim is?" Joe wanted to know.

"I'm afraid I didn't get a good enough look." Duncan turned to Emily as the curtain to the exhibit parted and some patrons peeked in. "Maybe you and Kim could wait in the lobby. I don't want anyone else coming in here. Have Kim stand by the curtain, and you wait for the police. Escort them back here when they arrive, okay?" He paused. "Oh and why don't you try and find one of our apparently worthless security guards, too."

Emily nodded and Duncan smiled and patted her back reassuringly. Joe narrowed his eyes.

As Emily and Kim left the exhibit, Duncan turned to Frank and Joe. "I'm not going to disturb anything, but I need to see the body."

Frank nodded and escorted him to the wheel barrow. Duncan took a deep breath as he looked at the masculine form buried up to his shoulders in hardened plaster. His eyes opened wide. "I know who it is," he said. "Professor Ayres."

"What?" Joe turned toward the body. "That's my Humanities professor."

Duncan nodded. "He came to my office this morning to talk about the exhibit. He was wearing that shirt." He looked shocked. "Why would someone want to kill him? He was just a nice old man."

"Was he upset about something when he came to see you?"

"Not that I could tell," Duncan paused. "He was letting me know he'd spoken to our contact in Scotland about the artifacts we would be receiving. He seemed fine. He was excited about it, actually."

"Did he tell you what he was doing or where he was headed after he left your office?" Frank asked.

"No. I know he said he had a class to teach, and then he wanted to check out the exhibit space at some point today." Duncan thought for a moment. "He wanted to do it before his office hours. He said he needed to be back by then in case any students stopped by."

"Okay, that's a start," Frank said, pulling a small notepad out of his pocket. "What time did he meet with you?"

Duncan pursed his lips trying to recall. "Around nine-thirty this morning."

"Do you know when he has his office hours?" Frank asked, as he scribbled down the information.

"I'm sorry, I don't."

"Well, that's easy enough to find out," Frank smiled as he closed the notepad. "Thanks for your help."

Duncan peered at Ayres body intently. "I wonder if this has anything to do with the curse?"

"Curse?" Joe asked. "Did you say curse?"

Duncan nodded solemnly. "Aye. I warned him against trying to take some of those artifacts out of Scotland...that there would be consequences, but he just scoffed at me."

Frank and Joe exchanged glances. Before they could ask him to clarify what he meant, Chief Collig and two other officers, accompanied by Emily and a museum security guard, entered through the curtain. Collig stopped short when he saw Frank and Joe. "You know, I really shouldn't be surprised, but yet, I always am."

"Hey, Chief," Joe called out.

Collig gave him a hard stare. "Where's the body?"

"Right here," Frank led Collig over to the Professor while shooting Joe a warning look over his head.

Years of experience on the police force enabled the chief to disguise any reaction to the sight in front of him, but Frank could see his brow furrow and his eyes widen a bit. Collig let out a heavy sigh, and gestured for the two police officers accompanying him to begin their work on the crime scene. He turned to Frank and Joe. "You two want to tell me what the hell is going on here?"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **It only took me three chapters to figure out how to include this. LOL I just wanted to thank everyone who's taken time to read. I really appreciate it. I also wanted to let you all know that this story is completely written. I will not leave you dangling with something unfinished. I will try to post a new chapter every other day….or as close to that as possible. Thanks again for taking time to read. I hope you enjoy the story.

Chapter 3

After explaining all they knew to Collig, Frank pulled Joe aside. "I think we need to get over to the professor's office."

"You mean before Collig does?"

"Yeah, I want to check out a few things."

Joe glanced towards Emily. "Okay, but I want to talk to her first."

Frank nodded. "She seems upset. I'm sure this whole episode has her shaken."

"Yeah, but I think it's something he said to her." Joe watched through narrowed eyes as Duncan left Emily's side and walked back over to Chief Collig.

"You don't think she's in trouble for bringing us back here, do you?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out," Joe answered. He began walking toward Emily who'd already started for the lobby. "Hey, wait up," he called out. Emily slowed her pace, but didn't stop entirely. "Are you all right?" Joe asked when he reached her side. He could tell by the way she was hugging her arms around her middle that she was close to losing it. Even for a seasoned police officer, the murder scene was gruesome. He couldn't imagine how shocking it must have been for Emily.

"Not really," she said, stepping through the curtain and out of the exhibit hall. "It's not every day you find a murder victim at work."

Joe noticed she was trembling and touched her arm lightly, hoping it was a comforting gesture. "I know. I'm sorry you had to see that." He looked around the lobby and noticed a small crowd gathering. He definitely didn't want to have a conversation with her here. Somewhere quiet and alone was what he wanted. "Listen, this probably isn't the best place to talk." He took a deep breath. "Can you get some time away? Maybe we could go grab a cup of coffee."

OOOOO

Emily gazed into his blue eyes, and saw the hopeful look there. _He's so good looking. _She mentally shook herself. _The last thing you need right now is a man in your life, so stop it. _"I don't get off for awhile, and then I have quite a bit of paperwork to do. I'm sorry."

"Um, okay," Joe faltered. "Well, I'd like to talk to you a little bit about the case. Maybe you saw or heard something you don't even realize could be helpful to the investigation."

"I doubt that," she replied. She cringed inwardly, knowing that what she was going to say next would sound callous and mean. _ He seems like a nice guy, but you've thought that about guys before_..._and been burned beyond belief. Besides, you have too much at stake right now. _"I spend most of my time here in my office and I'm not important enough for any of the bigwigs to confide in, so I can't imagine I'd have any information that would be relevant." _Although I can't think of anything I'd rather do than talk to you for a few hours. And stare into your gorgeous eyes. _

"I see," Joe said, his voice taking on a remote edge. "Well, if I have any questions, can I stop by during your office hours?"

Emily felt like dying inside. She lowered her head before she answered, afraid her face would give away her true emotions. "You'd probably better just talk to Duncan if there's anything more you want to know. I'm sure he wouldn't want an intern discussing this with anybody." She turned away from him. "I'd better go. I'm sorry the tour didn't work out. Maybe another time."

She hurried towards the large staircase across the room and quickly descended to the basement. Dashing down the hall, she flung open her office door, then turned and leaned against it heavily. She blinked rapidly as her eyes filled. _I will not cry at work. I will NOT cry at work. _She swiped at her eyes as two traitorous tears slid down her cheeks.

OOOOO

Frank walked over to Joe, who was still looking toward the staircase where Emily had fled. "Everything okay, bro? Where's Emily?"

Joe turned to Frank, an incredulous look on his face. "She left. I asked her if we could go somewhere and talk, and she shot me down. Completely."

Frank chuckled. "Alert the media. There is a girl in existence immune to the charms of Joe Hardy."

Joe shook his head. "No. I'm not buying it."

"Excuse me?" Frank raised his eyebrows. "Even I didn't think your ego was that big."

"No, I felt it. There was a connection between us," Joe insisted.

"Really?" He looked around pointedly. "Then why isn't she here? Feeling connected to you."

"I don't know." Joe was baffled.

"I do," Frank replied. "It was all in your head." He shrugged. "I can see why. She's gorgeous. Who wouldn't want to go out with her?" He snapped his fingers. "That's it!"

Joe looked at him quizzically.

"The connection you thought you felt." Frank grinned. "You were just standing in the way. The real vibes were between Emily and_ me_. It's me she's interested in."

Joe waved his hand at his brother and headed for the main doors of the museum.

"What?" Frank called after him. "Is that so hard to believe?" He followed his brother towards the door. "She's an Art History major, right? She speaks French?" He waited as Joe opened the heavy glass paneled doors. "After all...I'm the smart one," he teased.

Joe turned to glare at him.

"Makes perfect sense to me," Frank said with a grin, as he followed his brother out into the autumn sunshine.

OOOoooOOO

Frank and Joe paused outside Professor Ayres office in the Fine Arts and Humanities building. Joe peered at the yellow card resting in the metal bracket next to his door. "Office hours, Tuesday and Thursday, three to five p.m." He glanced at Frank, then at his watch. "That would be right now."

"Then I don't see any logical reason why we wouldn't be here," Frank said, as he tried the door and found it opened easily. "We're just waiting for the professor."

They stepped inside the small, cluttered room. A bank of windows ran across one side of the office, and the professor's desk and chair sat in front of them, facing the door. Bookshelves covered one wall, while filing cabinets ran the length of the other.

"This could take a week to search," Joe commented.

Frank stepped over to the desk and began shuffling through the papers resting on it. "Yeah, apparently he really was the 'absent-minded professor' type. This place is a mess."

Joe sighed. "I'll take a look through the files if you want to handle the desk."

"Sounds good," Frank agreed, as he sat down in the professor's chair, grabbed a tissue from a box on the desk, and opened one of the side drawers.

The brothers worked in companionable silence for the next fifteen minutes, until Joe called out, "Frank, look at this."

Frank stood and walked to his side. "Something interesting?"

"Maybe. It looks like a file on some of the Scottish artifacts for the new exhibit." He pointed to the bottom of one of the documents. "Look at the signature on this one."

"Duncan MacLean," Frank read aloud. "What is this?" he asked, taking it from Joe.

"It's the paper that releases most of these artifacts for shipment to the United States," Joe said.

"So, Duncan is in charge of them? Is that why he's here?" Frank wondered.

"Looks like it," Joe said.

"Yeah, but I'm not sure this means anything. Duncan told us he spoke to Professor Ayres this morning about the exhibit. I don't think his involvement is a secret or anything."

Joe shrugged. "No, but it's interesting. I think we need to pursue this a little more. What was their relationship? Were they friendly? And what the heck did Duncan mean about a curse, anyway?"

"That one has me baffled," Frank admitted. "And why would that be one of the first things Duncan mentioned after he found the professor murdered? That seemed kind of weird."

Joe looked at his brother. "Did you find anything?"

"Nothing unusual. No smoking gun. No threatening letters, no outrageous bills he couldn't pay, no bizarre notations in an appointment book. Nothing."

"Great, so no clues about why someone would want to murder the professor?"

"Nope," Frank said, as he looked around the small room. "Not here anyway."

"Well then," Joe began, as he tucked the papers into his jacket pocket. "I think our next step is obvious."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. We need to talk to Emily again." Joe headed for the door, then turned back to look at his grinning brother. "Are you coming?"

OOOoooOOO

Frank and Joe entered the Bayport University Art Museum for the second time that afternoon. Spotting Chief Collig across the lobby conversing with some of his officers and the museum security men, Joe grabbed Frank and steered him in the opposite direction. "I don't want him kicking us out until we get more information." Joe led his brother toward the staircase. "Emily went this way earlier."

They descended into the institutional-like basement complete with fluorescent lighting, white cinder-block walls, and linoleum tiled floors. The hallway was lined with doors, each bearing a hand written name card in a slot next to it. The brothers continued until they came to one with a name written in loopy script...Emily Clark.

Joe paused and rapped lightly on the door. When he got no response, he turned the knob and found it opened easily. "This never happens twice in one day," he said with a grin, as he stepped inside. The room was dark, and Frank reached for the wall beside the door and flipped on a switch. The hum of the overhead light sounded, and the boys found themselves in a small office with a utilitarian metal desk, a small, green metal filing cabinet and a three shelf bookcase.

"Pretty Spartan," Joe commented.

"I guess interns aren't very high on the totem pole," Frank surmised as he looked around.

Joe walked over to the bookshelf and read some of the titles. "'Art: A World History', 'Impressionistic Art, Leisure, and French Society', 'Monet: The Giverny Years', 'Complete French Grammar.'" He looked up at Frank, who had a smirk on his face. "What?"

"She's definitely more interested in me."

"Shut up," Joe said, as he walked toward her desk. He glanced down at the large calendar covering the blotter. It revealed nothing except various appointment times, test dates and class assignments. "How about we go back upstairs and see if we can find someone who knows where she is?"

"Fine with me," Frank agreed. "But what makes you think Emily will want to talk to you?"

Joe shrugged. "The worst she can do is say no...again."

OOOoooOOO

Joe and Frank paused by the front desk, where Kim, the girl who'd discovered the body, was helping to escort patrons out of the building. Her eyes widened when she recognized them. "You were with Emily."

"Yeah," Joe began. "Do you happen to know where she is right now?"

"She left."

"Left?" Joe asked.

"Yeah, we're all pretty creeped out by what happened here and her shift was over at four. So after she finished helping to collect phone numbers from the patrons, like the police wanted, she left." Kim shivered. "I can't wait to get out of here myself."

"Do you know where we might find her?" Joe asked.

Kim shrugged. "Home, probably. She lives in the French house."

"The French house?" Joe looked puzzled.

"Yeah," Frank spoke up. "It's one of the foreign language houses. Where the students living there all speak that language." He turned to Kim. "It's over on Presidential Circle, right?"

"I think so."

"Why does she live there?" Joe wondered.

"It's for her major. Well, one of her majors." Kim rolled her eyes. "She's the over-achiever type."

"Something wrong with that?" Joe asked a little sharply.

"I guess not. Unless it makes you so uptight, you can't have any fun. Emily forever has her nose in a book, or a museum project, or a class assignment." Kim looked at Joe. "I don't think she even knows how to have a good time."

"Just because someone likes to do well in school, doesn't mean they don't know how to have fun," Frank spoke up defensively.

"Usually," Joe said with a grin. "But for some people..." He looked pointedly at his brother.

Kim gave Joe a coy smile. "Well, I'm not one of those people."

Joe chuckled inwardly at her blatant invitation. "I'm sure you're not. But, it's Emily I need to see right now. Thanks for the information."

OOOoooOOO

The brothers approached the French house, a country-blue, one story rambler, with painted white shutters and late summer flowers blooming in the beds surrounding the slate path to the front door. Joe rang the doorbell and heard strains of "La Marseillaise" echoing through the house. A pretty girl with shoulder length, light brown hair opened the front door. "Can I help you?"

"Uh, we're looking for Emily Clark?" Joe began. "Does she live here?"

"She does, but she's not home right now."

"Oh." He was clearly disappointed. "Do you know when she'll be back?"

"Can't say that I do. I only got home a few minutes ago myself." She opened the door wider. "Would you like to come in? My name's Stacey Kennedy. I'm Emily's roommate."

Joe stepped through the door and stopped just inside the spacious living room. "I'm Joe Hardy and this is my brother, Frank."

"How do you know Emily?" Stacey asked.

"We don't really," Frank said. "At least not very well. She was going to give us a tour in the museum today, but it got interrupted."

"Interrupted?"

"Yeah, by a murder," Joe said.

"What?" Stacey crossed her arms in front of her. "Listen, I don't know who you are–"

"No, sorry. Wait," Joe interrupted, realizing he'd made a mistake in divulging that bit of information. "We're detectives. We just want to talk to Emily. We need some information from her."

Stacey eyed them warily. "What are you saying? You can't possibly think Emily had something to do with this."

Frank smiled. "Not at all. We only want to ask her about the museum and what might have been happening there prior to this...incident."

Stacey shoulders relaxed slightly. "Well, all I can do is tell her you stopped by. Like I said, she's out."

"Thank you," Frank replied. He gestured for Joe to follow him to the door. Right as they reached it, Joe turned back.

"Stacey, does Emily have a boyfriend?"

A little smile turned up the corners of her mouth. "That's something you'll have to ask her yourself."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Thank you Diogenes and Leya for the feedback! I see you are in Frank's camp, Diogenes. He is unattached in this story, so he can be yours, if you'd like. LOL Also, just a note for those not familiar with the 70s TV version of the "The Hardy Boys"…This story takes place at what would be the beginning of Season 3. I never quite bought the idea that the Department of Justice hired two college kids to work as agents, so this story is my version of the direction I would have liked the series to take. (My apologies to Glen Larson Productions and Universal. I own nothing of theirs.) Also, it is set in 1979, so no computers, cell phones or other modern technology to help them solve the crime. In addition, the canon for the show has Laura Hardy deceased and Aunt Gertrude living with the family to help raise the boys. Frank is sweet on Nancy Drew, but Joe never had a steady girlfriend. Callie Shaw is Fenton's office assistant, but not romantically involved with Frank. Chet Morton is a character, but Iola is not mentioned in the show. Vanessa Bender does not exist. Thanks again to all who are reading!

Chapter 4

"And you found his body like that? His head buried up to his shoulders in plaster?" Fenton Hardy asked, as he put a heaping pile of spaghetti on his plate, later that evening in the Hardy kitchen.

"Oh, Fenton, really!" his sister Gertrude, older by ten years, scolded. "Do all our dinner conversations have to revolve around criminals and dead bodies?"

Fenton smiled. "They do when you live in a house full of detectives."

Gertrude frowned as she passed a bowl of salad to a grinning Frank.

"We'll try and stick to the sanitized version, Aunt Gertrude," he said, taking the bowl from her and placing a generous portion on his plate.

"Dad, can you do a background check on Professor Ayres?" Joe asked.

"Yeah, I can get a criminal check done, if that's what you want."

"I think we need to probe more into his personal life," Frank said. "I doubt the man has a record. The university never would have hired him."

"You two should head to the campus library tonight," Fenton advised. "Check out the newspaper archives."

"It's already on my list," Frank said. "Along with driving by his residence. Maybe talking to a neighbor or two."

"I want to know what Collig found on the museum security tapes," Joe added, popping a meatball in his mouth. "I don't think you can drag a dead body through a museum without someone seeing you."

"Joseph!" Gertrude exclaimed.

Joe grinned at her. "Sorry. But, I just don't see how anyone could have killed him there. That room was an echo chamber, not to mention it had nothing but a curtain dividing it from the rest of the museum."

"Yeah," Frank agreed. "And I'm sure the professor would have put up a fight. Someone would have noticed."

"A gunshot would have been heard. A fight would have been heard." Joe took a sip of his soft drink. "He had to have killed him somewhere else."

"And, we still don't really know how he was murdered," Frank said, "since we could only see half the body." He paused, a fork twirled with spaghetti at his lips. "Can you get that from Collig, Dad?"

"If the coroner is finished with the report," Fenton said, wiping his mouth with his napkin. "It might take awhile."

"Yeah, especially since they had to chip the guy's head out of a wheelbarrow full of hardened plaster," Joe added.

"I have heard enough!" Gertrude rose from her chair, glaring at her brother and nephews. "You three have ruined a perfectly delicious meal. Again." She picked up her plate and left the room.

Fenton, Frank and Joe exchanged guilty looks. Then Joe cleared his throat. "Can you pass me the rolls, Dad?"

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"So, what did you think of Professor Ayres?" Frank asked his brother as they walked through the doors of the Bayport library an hour later.

Joe shrugged his shoulders. "He was okay. Humanities 101 is a lecture class with over two hundred students in it. I didn't get to know him personally or anything like that."

Frank started up the stairs to the second floor. "Well, how did he seem in class? Anxious or angry at all? Worried?"

"None of those things." Joe paused as they approached the reference section, trying to recall his professor's behavior in class. "If I had to describe him, I'd probably say he seemed bored."

Frank leaned against the counter by the "newspaper back issues" section. "That's interesting. Do you know how long he's been teaching here?"

"A couple of years, I think. At least that's what I remember him saying at the beginning of the semester."

Frank nodded. "Well, let's start three years back to make sure. Yell out if you find something."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"Hi, Stacey," Emily greeted her roommate as she dropped her backpack near the kitchen table.

"Hi, yourself," Stacey remarked as she turned from the counter, holding a mug filled with something steamy and hot.

"That looks wonderful," Emily said. "Do you have an extra?"

Stacey smiled and handed her the mug. "Cocoa. Just for you."

"Mmmm," Emily replied, bringing the drink up to her mouth and inhaling the rich, chocolate scent. "Thanks, it's exactly what I need. It's been a rough day."

"So I heard," Stacey sat at the table and kicked out the chair opposite her. "Have a seat. Tell me all about the murder."

Emily's eyes widened. "How did you know? Is it on the news already?"

"I'm sure it is, but I haven't turned the TV on." She smiled. "Two detectives came by here looking for you a couple of hours ago. Two very cute detectives."

Emily sat the cocoa down and eyed her roommate warily. "Their names didn't happen to be Frank and Joe?"

"As a matter of fact...yes." Stacey was still smiling. "And, Joe seemed particularly interested in finding you."

"What did you tell him?"

"Nothing. Just that you were out. And, I didn't tell him that 'out' meant your usual table on the third floor of the library."

"Good." Emily sipped her cocoa.

"Good? That's all you're going to say?"

"Stacey, those guys are detectives. A man...not just any man, but a professor I knew...was murdered in cold blood right here on campus. And, it was horrible. I don't really want to think about it anymore, and they want to ask me questions."

"So what? I'm assuming you didn't kill him..."

Emily rolled her eyes.

"Then why avoid them? They're both _very _good looking." She gave Emily a pointed look.

"My position on men hasn't changed, Stace. I can't get involved with a guy right now. I have too much at stake." She took another sip of her cocoa. "Dating is a distraction I can't afford."

"Get real," Stacey said. "How is going on a date going to railroad your plans for running the Louvre someday?"

"I can't take the chance that I'll fall for someone. Not this semester. It's the most critical of my whole four years. If I blow it now, I won't get accepted into the program, I won't get to study in France, and I'll have no hope of getting hired at the museums where I want to work. I have to have experience in a European museum for them to even consider me." She took another sip of her drink.

Stacey sighed, crossing her arms in front of her. "I'm not buying any of this. Every guy is not like Rick."

"I didn't say anything about Rick. And, I really do need to concentrate on my major." She set her mug down. "It's a hard field for women to break into. Most museum boards and auction houses are run by rich old men, who think young women are only good for bringing them coffee and doing other favors. If you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean, but I don't think dating is an issue."

"It is," Emily sighed. "It makes me look like my main focus is something other than my work."

Stacey rolled her eyes.

"To the museum director and the head of the internship program, it does." Emily tapped the table for emphasis. "Last semester, they denied an internship to Becca Holt because she wanted to wait and find out if her boyfriend was accepted into a 'study abroad' for his major before she'd choose between a French or Italian museum."

"Well, that was stupid of her."

"Yes, it was. But Mr. Perriton's response was, 'We don't need girls who have boyfriends applying for these positions at all. It causes too much trouble.'" Emily ran her fingertip around the top of her mug. "He said it to her, but the message was loud and clear for the rest of us. Two other girls dropped out of the major a week later."

Stacey leaned back against the kitchen counter. "I'm not saying he has to be your boyfriend. I just think you need to go out on a date once in awhile. Have some fun. You're in college for crying out loud. Quit acting like you're fifty years old or something." She gestured wildly with her arms. "Let loose occasionally."

Emily brought her empty mug over to the sink and filled it with water. "And you think Joe Hardy is who I should 'let loose' with?"

"I don't know. Maybe, maybe not. I just think you need to get out of that creepy museum basement every so often and have a good time."

Emily washed the mug and set it in the dish drainer. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I have gotten a little...boring."

"I know I'm right."

"I'll think about it." Emily reached for her backpack. "Thanks for the cocoa. I've got to hit the sack. I'm exhausted."

Stacey smiled as her roommate headed out of the kitchen. "And, I need to have a little talk with Joe Hardy," she murmured into her mug.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"Hey, Joe?" Frank called, as he flipped through the microfilmed pages of newspaper on the screen in front of him.

"Got something?" his brother asked from his position in front of another screen.

"It's a little blurb in the University newspaper announcing Professor Ayres appointment to the faculty."

Joe stood up and peered over Frank's shoulder.

"Anything interesting?"

"Not particularly. Just background information. He was hired a little over two years ago. He'd been working at State with Art History and Humanities students in their study abroad program."

Joe nodded. "He does that here, too. He spends the spring semester in London and Paris."

"It says he's fifty-six years old, single and completely devoted to instilling a love of fine arts in young people." Frank sighed. "Sounds like a model citizen."

"Yeah," Joe said slowly. "Let's dig around a little more. Even Al Capone looked like a model citizen on paper."

Frank nodded. "I agree."

Joe sat back down in the wooden chair and inserted another strip of microfilm into the reader. As he scanned through newspapers from the last year, an article on him and Frank apprehending a local man running an illegal gambling ring popped up. _ Nice photo of me, crappy one of Frank_. He grinned and moved to the next page. "Frank?"

This time it was Frank's turn to peer over a shoulder. "Look at this." Joe pointed to a small article buried in the back pages of the 'Bayport Gazette'.

"Local professor can't get funding for art exhibit," Frank read.

"Guess which exhibit?" Joe looked up at his brother. "The one on Scottish clans that's going in the museum right now."

Frank quickly scanned the article. "This was written only four months ago."

"How did he go from no funding to having the artifacts shipped so quickly?"

"I don't know," Frank said. "It says here he needed close to half a million dollars to do this."

"Why so much?"

"I'm guessing the artifacts are pretty valuable, Joe. It would cost a fortune to ship and insure them."

"That's a lot of money in such a short time."

Frank nodded. "Maybe Professor Ayres wasn't as much of a model citizen as he appeared to be."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Bright and early the next morning, Frank and Joe walked through the doors of the Bayport University Art Museum. Joe glanced across the lobby and spotted Emily talking to a young man. His eyes moved over her slowly, taking in her form-fitting black turtleneck sweater, her red and black plaid knee-length skirt and her black high-heeled boots. Frank leaned into him and said with a grin, "You might want to pick your jaw up off the floor before you go talk to her."

Joe glared at him then strode purposefully across the lobby in Emily's direction. She looked up, but continued speaking with the young man in front of her. Joe overheard the last part of their conversation as he reached her.

"Do you think you could refill the rack with these brochures, Brian?"

The young man smiled at her eagerly. "Of course I can. I'll do it perfectly."

Emily returned his smile with a warm one of her own. "I know you will. You always do a wonderful job. I don't know what we'd do here without you."

Joe watched as the teenager walked towards the metal display rack by the front door, stopping to look back at Emily every few seconds. She waved at him then turned to Joe.

"Brian helps us out here three days a week. He's part of a program with the group home for developmentally disabled adults."

He nodded. "The one just over on Oak Street?"

"Yes," she said with a smile. "He does a great job."

"He has a crush on you."

"He's very sweet. It's a great program." She looked up at Joe just as Frank approached them. "Now, what can I do for you?"

Joe glanced at Frank out of the corner of his eye and caught the grin spreading over his brother's face as he heard Emily's question.

He shot his brother a warning look. _Don't you dare say what you're thinking, Frank. _He turned his attention back to Emily."Well, I need to get some more information about the case. Is Duncan here?" Joe asked pointedly.

"No," she replied. "He's meeting with the dean of the College of Fine Arts and Humanities this morning." Her eyes clouded. "To talk about what happened yesterday."

Joe nodded. "Okay, well, since you told me he's the only person I'm supposed to discuss this with, I guess we'll come back later." He turned and began to walk away.

"Joe," Emily called out. "Don't go."

He paused as she approached him. "I'm sorry. I know I was rude yesterday. I didn't mean for what I said to sound like that. It's just that I didn't want you to think...I mean I didn't want you to..." She sighed and waved her hand. "I'd be happy to talk to you. I'm not sure I can help, but I'll try and answer any questions you have." Joe watched as she looked toward an older woman with a nametag, standing by the entrance to the Impressionism exhibit. "Just a minute, let me get Mrs. DeLuca to cover the desk."

As she walked away, Frank leaned into him. "She meant that she didn't want you hitting on her. I'll bet she already has a boyfriend."

Joe didn't respond. He just watched her as she walked across the lobby, an unfamiliar feeling he didn't want to try and identify, squeezing his chest.

"Okay, I think I'm good for a few minutes now," Emily said, as she hurried back over to Frank and Joe. She glanced around the lobby. "Maybe we should sit outside. Voices really carry in this place."

The three of them stepped through the museum's main doors and into the brilliant sunshine of a warm October day. Emily gestured to a wrought iron table and chairs in a small courtyard to the right of the museum's entrance. "Is this all right?"

"Perfect," Frank smiled, as he took a seat.

Joe pulled out a chair for Emily, then sat and scooted his own seat a bit closer to hers.

"So, what would you like to know?" Emily asked.

"Well, let's start with Professor Ayres," Joe suggested. "How well did you know him?"

"We were acquainted," she replied. "I've taken a class or two from him. He was responsible for bringing the Scottish clans exhibit here. I haven't personally spoken to him beyond a 'hello' every now and then when he was in the building."

"About this exhibit," Frank began. "We found an article in the library mentioning that Professor Ayres didn't even have the funding to get the artifacts here four months ago. What changed? Where did the money come from?"

"I wouldn't have a clue," Emily replied. "You'd need to check with the museum director, Mr. Perriton, or Duncan for that information. I do know that sometimes when a museum mentions a lack of funding to the press, it spurs people to donate money. Maybe that's why it was in the paper."

Joe leaned back in his chair. "What exactly do you do here, Emily?"

She laughed. "Everything nobody else wants to. Tours, paperwork, cataloging, shipping and receiving, employee scheduling. A little bit of everything and a whole lot of nothing."

"Duncan mentioned something about a curse yesterday," Joe said. "Do you know what he was talking about?"

Emily sighed. "Duncan is an amazing historian. He knows so much about Scottish clans and their history...but he can be a bit superstitious."

"He's Scottish, right?" Frank asked.

"Yes, he's visiting from the university in Edinburgh," she explained. "In fact, Duncan is the one who arranged for this whole exhibit to be brought here."

"But he seemed worried about some of it." Joe was confused. "Why would he arrange for it and then be superstitious about it?"

"Well, he got Professor Ayres involved, because he's quite an expert on some of the clans from western Scotland, particularly the Isle of Skye. He spent a lot of time there and he's the one who got special permission to bring certain artifacts here."

"And those objects are the ones Duncan is concerned about?"

"Yes. He really freaked out when he found that Professor Ayres had arranged for the Chief of Clan MacLeod to allow us to exhibit Rory Mor's horn."

"Who's what?" Joe asked.

Emily laughed. "Rory Mor MacLeod was the fifteenth chief of the clan MacLeod and he was quite the legend. The 'Mor' in his name means 'great'."

"So he was known as Rory the Great?" Joe asked. "Wow, how cool would that be?"

"He deserved the title, apparently. Anyway, the horn is an actual ox horn, and the legend goes that Rory was watching some sort of agricultural exhibition when he heard that members of their enemy clan, the MacDonalds, had landed on their island to invade. So, Rory jumped on the back of one of the oxen to repel the invasion force and saved the day. The ox he rode was allowed to die a natural death and when that happened, they sawed off one of his horns, hollowed it out and made the legendary 'Rory Mor's Horn.'"

"And, what does one do with this horn?" Frank wanted to know.

"Well, the clan heir, when he comes of age, has to fill the horn with claret and drink it all in one swig, without sitting down...or falling down," she laughed.

"A full horn? How much is that?" Joe asked.

"About one and two-thirds bottles."

"Holy cow!" Frank whistled low. "Has anyone ever done it?"

"They all have," she assured him. "In fact, one of the chieftains set a record in nineteen sixty-five for downing it in less than two minutes."

"And none of them died of alcohol poisoning?" Frank quipped.

"None that I know of," she said with a smile.

"So, what's the curse that goes with it?" Joe persisted.

"That I'm not sure of. I actually think it's only in Duncan's mind. He seems to feel that the horn shouldn't have been removed from Dunvegan castle," Emily sighed. "I don't know of any 'official' curse tied to that object." She shrugged. "But, I guess that's the stuff of which legends are made."

A side door near the patio opened, and the older lady Emily had left in charge of the lobby peered around it. "Emily?"

"Just a minute," she said to Frank and Joe. She spoke quietly with the woman for a moment then turned back to the brothers. "I'm sorry, I need to go right now. Was there anything more you needed to discuss with me?"

"Yes," Joe replied immediately. "Um, when are you finished today?"

Emily looked down at her watch. "Around two."

"Can I come back then?"

She nodded. "I'll meet you in the lobby." She stepped back into the museum and Joe sighed, then looked up and caught Frank staring at him.

"What?"

"Can _I_ come back? Didn't you forget someone?"

"Oh. Well, I figured you'd probably be busy investigating somewhere else," Joe said. "No sense both of us spending all our time questioning one witness. Didn't you say something about talking to Ayres' neighbors last night?"

Frank rolled his eyes. "Unbelievable."

OOOOOooooOOOOO

Frank leaned over the shoulders of his father and Chief Collig as he watched the surveillance video from the art museum on the monitor in Collig's office later that morning.

"Okay, so we can see that several people walked back and forth past the construction entrance between nine-thirty a.m. when Professor Ayres was speaking with Duncan MacLean and two-thirty p.m., the approximate time you discovered the body," Collig explained.

"Yeah, but none of them are carrying anything that looks remotely like a body," Frank said. "In fact, not even Professor Ayres passes this way."

"Correct," Collig said. "This part of the tape was shot between nine-thirty and noon. Now here comes the interesting part." All of sudden the screen went black.

"What happened?" Fenton asked.

"The camera stopped working." Collig's voice was grim.

"What?" Frank's mouth hung open in disbelief.

"Yeah, for eight minutes," Collig sighed. "And, I'm willing to bet that it was during those eight minutes, someone dragged Professor Ayres' body into the exhibition room and plunged his head into the cement."

"Then this was an inside job," Frank said. "Someone tampered with the surveillance camera."

"That's what it looks like," Collig agreed. "Although, it certainly could have been an outsider familiar with the security camera set-up the museum uses. It isn't very sophisticated. Budget problems and all."

"So Ayres was murdered sometime between ten a.m. and noon," Fenton surmised.

"That's what we're guessing." Collig leaned back in his chair. "The last person to see Ayres was a secretary who watched him exit Duncan MacLean's office. We lose track of him after that. Nobody saw him leave the museum and no one saw him anywhere else that day after his appointment with MacLean."

"Did the secretary say what kind of mood he was in after the meeting?" Fenton wanted to know.

"She said that he seemed to be in good spirits," Collig replied. "In fact, the reason she noticed him was that he stopped by her desk. She mentioned he took some candy out of the bowl she keeps there and that he said hello to her."

Frank paced behind his father and the chief. "Okay, so he wasn't upset when he left Duncan's office. But he must have stopped somewhere else in the museum. We're pretty sure he didn't leave between the time of his meeting and the time he was murdered." He looked at Collig. "But the video doesn't show Ayres entering the exhibit hall where we found him in the wheelbarrow."

"No, and no video exists of him anywhere else in the building that day. The surveillance cameras are only placed in the exhibit halls, the lobby, and near all the entrances and exits to the building. The office and storage areas of the museum are camera free."

Collig reached forward and pulled a report off the pile of papers on his desk. "One more thing. Preliminary report from the coroner, pending an autopsy." He handed it to Fenton.

"Strangulation," Fenton said, passing the paper to Frank.

"Yep," Collig said. "Bruising around the neck indicates that, but we won't know for sure until the autopsy is complete. That'll take a few more days, maybe a week."

"Well, if he was strangled, that's a clue," Frank said. "Professor Ayres wasn't a small man. Whoever murdered him was fairly strong."

Collig spun his chair around and faced Frank. "I hate to do this, but I'm going to need to ask for your help with this one." He sighed. "Your help and your brother's."

Frank fought back the smile that started to tug up the corners of his mouth. "Oh?"

"We don't have a motive," Collig continued. "And we need one. Unfortunately, the Bayport police stick out like a sore thumb on campus. I'm afraid we might not be able to get the information we want fast enough." He sighed again. "At least not as fast as a college student working undercover might."

This time Frank did smile. "So, you _want_ Joe and me to investigate this crime?"

"Under my direction and supervision," Collig said, holding a finger up in warning. "And only if you promise to keep that brother of yours on a tight leash."

"I'll do my best," Frank said.

"You report to me every day and let me know what you find." Collig shuffled through more papers on his desk. "Here are two ID badges for you." He shoved them at Frank.

"Thanks, Chief."

"I'm only doing this because the danger to the public of having a murderer on the loose outweighs my extreme reluctance to give Joe Hardy a badge of any kind." He looked at Frank intently. "Don't make me regret it."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Thanks so much for the feedback Leya and Virtute! I really appreciate it and I'm glad you enjoyed Collig. He's a favorite of mine. Crusty, but underneath it all, I think he's probably a teddy bear. Also, just to note, the legends and artifacts mentioned in the story are real. If anyone wants a link to learn more about them, let me know, I'll be happy to send it to you. Thanks again to all who are reading!

Chapter 6

"Wait a minute," Joe said, a grin spreading over his face as he picked up his paper bag from the counter of the fast food restaurant. "_Collig_ asked for our help?"

"Yeah," Frank said, easing himself into one of the molded plastic seats in the dining area and reaching inside his sack for some French fries. "To say I was shocked was an understatement."

"I wish I could have seen his face when he told you." Joe took a sip of his drink. "How did he look?"

"Constipated," Frank said with a laugh.

"I'll bet," Joe chuckled. He opened a ketchup packet and squirted it on his open cheeseburger wrapper. "Did you learn anything important at the station?"

Frank nodded as he took a large bite of his burger. "Yeah, there's an eight minute blank spot on the surveillance tapes."

"What? You're kidding."

"I'm not. And in the footage that the museum did have...Ayres is nowhere in sight."

"You do think he was killed there, don't you?"

"Yeah, there's no footage of him leaving, and all the exits have cameras on them."

Joe jammed some fries into his ketchup puddle, a thoughtful expression on his face. "So, whoever did this either knew how to disable the cameras, or went back and erased the tapes after the murder."

Frank nodded. "I wonder if you could tell which one it was by how the tapes look when they're played back? I think I'll go visit Steve at Bayport Camera while you talk to Emily again."

"Sounds good," Joe said. "Stop by the museum when you're done. There are a few more things I want to check out."

"You mean besides Emily," Frank smirked.

Joe rolled his eyes as he reached for the last of Frank's French fries. "Yeah, besides Emily."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Promptly at two o'clock, Joe entered the art museum, and strolled over to the front desk where Emily was talking on the phone. She smiled at him as he approached, and held up her hand to let him know she'd be finished momentarily. As she hung up, she looked at Joe. "Where's your brother?"

"He, um, he had to go downtown and do some investigating. He met with Chief Collig this morning while I was doing some more research at the library, and he actually wants us working on this case in an official capacity," he said with a grin.

Emily cocked her head. "Is there something funny about that?"

"You have no idea," he replied, leaning against the marble countertop.

"Okay, well, if you still have questions for me, I'm available. We won't be bothered in my office." She stepped around to the front of the large desk. "Is that all right?"

"Sure." Joe followed her as she descended the stairs to the lower level of the museum, mesmerized by the slight sway of her hips as she walked.

"I'm sorry. It's not the most comfortable place, but it is quiet." She paused before her door and smiled at him as she inserted her key into the lock. "Nobody comes down to the dungeon." She opened the door and gasped.

Emily's office had been ransacked. The desk was wiped clean; the drawers pulled out and overturned onto the floor. The filing cabinet was lying on its side, every file emptied of its contents and scattered across the room. The books on the bookshelves had been tossed on top of the pile haphazardly. And, resting innocently on top of it all, was a single pink rose.

"Wh,-what on earth?" she stammered.

Joe pushed by her and surveyed the wreckage. "Damn," he said. Emily tried to squeeze past him, but he grabbed her arm. "No, don't. The police need to see this."

"But, why?" She looked around the room, bewildered. "Why would anyone do this?"

Joe shook his head. "I don't know, but I'm going to find out. Come with me, I need to make some phone calls."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily was standing outside her office with Joe while Frank, who'd brought along a camera from the police department, was inside her office, snapping pictures of the crime scene. Joe watched her carefully. Her eyes were huge, and she was hugging herself with both arms as though she couldn't get warm. When she stepped away from the wall and began pacing back and forth, Joe went over to her side. "Hey," he said softly.

She paused and looked up at him, the mixture of fear and confusion in her eyes tugging at his heart. What he really wanted to do was hold her, but would she let him? Would she think he was trying to take advantage of her? Crossing a line that shouldn't be crossed? Joe hesitated. "Are you okay? Do you want to go somewhere else?"

"No," she replied, her voice wavering. "I'm not okay." Her eyes were watery when she looked at Joe. "Help me understand what's happening here. This is an _art museum_ for heaven's sake."

Now the urge to take her in his arms was overwhelming. He took a step closer, reached out and ran his hand up and down her back in a comforting gesture. "All I can say is that Frank and I will get to the bottom of this. I promise."

Emily nodded and gave Joe a tiny smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said, moving even closer to her. "Are you sure you don't want to go upstairs? Maybe get a drink of water?"

She shook her head and Joe inhaled her scent. Clean, floral and very feminine. It was making him crazy. He tentatively put his arm around her shoulders. She didn't push him away. "Joe?"

"Hmm?" he asked.

"What does this mean? Why would someone break into my office? I'm a nobody around here."

"That's what we're going to try and figure out once Frank is finished taking photos."

"I've always loved this place, but now..."

She shivered and he tightened his hold on her, pulling her into his side, her soft body molding against his. _Damn it, she's shaking._

"Okay, I think I'm about finished," Frank announced, cutting through Joe's testosterone haze and snapping him back into his detective mode.

"Do you want to wait here while Frank and I take a look at your office?" Joe tried to make his voice sound calm and reassuring.

Emily's eyes widened. "N-no. I don't want to stay out here by myself."

"Okay." He squeezed her shoulder. "You don't have to." He walked her into the small room and felt Emily sag against him, overwhelmed by the sight in front of her.

Frank righted a metal chair that had been thrown to the floor. "Emily, why don't you sit down?"

She gave a small nod and sat in the folding chair. Joe watched her eyes moving from one damaged item to the other. She stopped when she saw the pink rose. "That's not mine."

"What?" Joe turned to look at the flower.

"It's not mine. I don't know where it came from."

Joe exchanged glances with Frank over her head.

"You didn't have this sitting on your desk?" Joe clarified. "In a vase or something?"

"No, I've never seen it before."

Frank finished snapping on a pair of latex gloves, picked up the rose and deposited it into an evidence bag. He and Joe worked thoroughly, still trying to go as quickly as possible. Joe paused after a few moments and handed Emily an art book. "It looks like this got wet. Probably from that water bottle." He pointed to a plastic bottle on the floor. "For some reason, whoever did this felt like he needed to open it and pour it over everything."

Emily took the book, tears glistening in her eyes. "This is from Paris." She turned the sodden, smeared pages. "It can't be replaced."

Joe felt a surge of some emotion he couldn't identify washing over him. She looked so small and vulnerable and she was trying so hard not to fall apart. He knelt down in front of her. "I promise you, we'll get this guy. He's not going to get away with this."

She nodded and quickly brushed away the tears that threatened to spill onto her cheeks. "I think I just want to go home now, if that's okay. Unless you still want me to answer those questions you had for me."

"We can do that another day. If you wait just a minute, I'll take you."

"No, that's all right." She stood shakily and set her book on the metal chair. "Stacey was going to meet me here after her last class." She looked toward the wall where a clock used to hang and sighed. "She'll be here at three-thirty."

Joe glanced at his watch. "It's three-twenty right now."

He watched as Emily scanned the room, her brow furrowing. "Why didn't he take my purse?" she asked. Joe noticed it sat in the corner, oddly undisturbed.

Frank followed the direction of her gaze. "Emily, I think you've just discovered a major clue."

"How is not taking my purse a clue?" she asked, puzzled as she walked over to it.

"Whoever broke in here wasn't trying to rob you," Frank said. He watched while she checked the contents of her bag. "Anything missing?"

"Nothing." She held up her wallet. "All my money is still here."

"My guess is that he's after something else you have," Joe said.

"But that's just it," she protested. "I don't have anything important. At least nothing that half the other employees here don't have, too. No artifacts, no documents, no combination to the safe, nothing."

Joe looked at all the papers scattered across the room from her filing cabinet. "Would you know if something were taken from any of these folders?"

She sighed. "Maybe if an entire file were gone, but probably not if it was just one piece of paper that was missing. The thing is...this isn't just _my_ stuff. These files have information stored by lots of interns who worked here before me."

"Yeah," Frank agreed. "We might not be able to figure out exactly what this guy was after from what's left here."

"I can try to put it all back together again, but I'm not sure I'm up to it right now." She paused. "If it's crucial that I stay, I will though."

Joe smiled at her. He could tell how shaken up she was even though she was putting up a brave front. "No, you've had a very rough two days. Let me walk you up to the lobby. Then you go home and get some rest."

"I doubt I'll be able to do that," she sighed.

"Do you want me to come to your house for awhile?" he asked. "I could sleep on the couch tonight if it would make you feel better."

She shook her head. "No, but thank you for being so sweet. I'll just call Eric. I'm sure he'll be happy to do it."

Joe flinched a little. "Eric. Okay."

A loud gasp was heard near the doorway as Emily's roommate, Stacey, peered inside. "What in the world happened here?"

Emily slung her purse over her shoulder as she stepped over the debris to reach the door. "I'll explain it on the way home. Right now I just want to get out of here." She turned back to smile at Frank and Joe. "Thank you both so much. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been here."

"You're welcome," Frank said, returning the smile.

Joe nodded curtly in her direction then turned back to the mess.

"Thanks again," Emily said as she walked away with Stacey, whose jaw was still hanging open.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"Theories?" Frank asked his brother as they continued to comb through the destruction that was Emily's office.

"Not a burglary. After something very specific," Joe sighed. "The question is...what?"

Frank picked up a file and began perusing its contents. "You know, Joe, there is one thing that's bugging me."

"The rose," Joe said flatly.

"Yeah," Frank nodded. "The rose. That raises all kinds of implications."

"Psycho stalker, murderer trying to prove his 'love' for Emily–"

"You think this is related to the murder?" Frank interrupted.

"Don't you?"

Before Frank could reply, Duncan MacLean and a museum security guard burst through the office door. "What the hell?" Duncan's voice was a mixture of disbelief and outrage.

"Wow." The security guard whistled through his teeth. "This guy was thorough."

"So it would seem," Frank said, by way of a greeting.

Joe turned to the guard. "So..." he paused to read his nametag, "Mitch? You didn't happen to catch anyone coming down here on your cameras, did you?"

He shook his head, still staring at the chaos around him. "No cameras down here."

"Of course," Joe muttered.

"What about the cameras by the stairwell?" Frank spoke up.

"Yeah, we could look at those. Problem is there are two other sets of stairs leading down here, plus the elevator."

Frank sighed. "Well, it's a place to start."

Duncan ran his hand through his hair. "What is all this about? Why Emily? What could she possibly have done to warrant...this?" He gestured at the mess.

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Joe said. "Did you see anybody unusual down here today? Someone who wasn't supposed to be?"

"No. I'm hardly ever down here though. My office is on the third floor." He looked towards the security guard. "Mitch, get all your men who were on duty since this morning. If they've gone home, call them back. Somebody must have seen something."

Mitch nodded and disappeared. Duncan stared around the room and then paled.

"What?" Joe asked.

He pointed to an object sitting near a pile of papers. "Where did that come from?"

Joe walked over and bent down to retrieve it. "What? This? It looks like a piece of crystal."

"Dinnae touch it!" Duncan shouted, his Scottish brogue becoming very pronounced.

"Why?" Joe moved towards him holding the object.

"It's a sign of the curse." Duncan backed away from Joe. "It shouldn't be here. It was locked up with the other artifacts that arrived today."

"Well, maybe Emily brought it here to catalog it, or whatever it is you do with this art stuff."

Duncan shook his head. "She doesn't even know the artifacts have arrived. I didn't have a chance to tell her with all the debriefings the university's made me attend." His eyes were wide as he looked at Joe. "It found her. She is cursed and now you are, too. You are in great danger, Mr. Hardy."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Thanks so much for the lovely comments, Leya, Virtute and Kenna! To answer your question, Virtute, I do have several stories that are a continuation to this one, so stay tuned. LOL Thanks again to everyone who's reading. Also, the "charmstones" in this chapter are all real artifacts, although not currently missing...that I know of. LOL

Chapter 7

"Cursed?" Joe looked at the crystal object he held between his fingers. "What are you talking about?"

"That's a charmstone," Duncan said, his eyes wide. "They're very powerful. They can be omens of either good or evil."

"Well, what makes you think this one isn't an omen of good?"

"Just look around you," Duncan said, with a wide swipe of his hands at the destruction in Emily's office. "How can this be an omen for good?"

"Wait a minute," Frank interjected. "You mean because this artifact showed up in the middle of a ransacked office, it's some sort of curse?"

"Aye," Duncan nodded solemnly.

"I don't mean to be insulting here," Joe said, "but you're sounding a little...nuts."

"I know it sounds crazy," Duncan acknowledged. "But how much research have you done on these objects?"

"None," Joe admitted.

"Precisely. I've studied them for years," Duncan explained. "And when I started, I used to scoff at men who believed in this sort of thing. Not anymore," he sighed. "I've read too much and seen too much. And when I say this object is cursed, you'd do well to believe it."

Joe examined the small crystal, set in silver and hanging on a burgundy ribbon, carefully. "Maybe you'd better tell us a little more about this."

"It belongs to Clan Campbell," Duncan said, eyeing the object warily. "It's over a thousand years old. It was used as protection by some members of the clan and used as a way to curse their enemies as well. If you touch it and you are not a member of the clan, the curse will extend to you as well."

"So how do you think it got here?" Frank asked.

"I don't know. We have a crate of the smaller objects that belong in the exhibit locked in a cage in the shipment room. I received a phone call from the dock saying that the larger shipment of artifacts from Scotland had arrived and was being sent from the airport," Duncan explained. "I don't expect it to be here for another half hour at least."

"Who was delivering the art?" Joe asked.

"A freight company from New York City who specializes in this sort of thing. Not just any delivery company can handle it. Our registrar was meeting the shipment at the airport and overseeing its transportation here." Duncan ran his hand through his hair. "He hasn't called me yet."

"Well, maybe he's already here and unpacked the crate with the small stuff too," Joe suggested.

Duncan shook his head. "Not without me, he wouldn't. He needs a curator to verify the artifacts, check them, and sign them off. We also need our insurance representative to inspect them. I wanted Emily there as well, since she's the intern assigned to this exhibit."

"I think we'd better head to your dock then," Frank suggested. "If this item was supposed to be in the shipment and the shipment isn't here, or if it was in the small crate and it's been looted, you've got some serious problems on your hands."

Duncan sighed. "More serious than yesterday's murder?"

"Not so far." Frank moved around the desk. "But I think they all may be related somehow."

"Okay." Duncan ran his hand through his hair as he looked around Emily's office again. "Let me tell Mitch where we'll be and I'll meet you at the dock."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"So," Frank began as he and Joe headed toward the museum's shipping and receiving area. "Are you going to call Emily later and check on her?"

"No."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "Any reason why not?"

Joe turned to him exasperated. "Look, in spite of what you might think...I can take a hint. And she's given me plenty of them. In fact, she's written it in the sky in big, bold, capital letters...'I'm not interested in you, Joe. Stay away.'" He sighed. "Fine. I got the message. From now on, anything I have to do with Emily Clark will be on a purely professional basis."

"So does that mean I can ask her out?"

Joe glared at his brother as he flung open the door to the loading dock. "Don't even think about it for one second."

Frank bent his head and stifled a chuckle as they entered the shipping room. Large wooden crates were being brought in through an open rolling metal dock door and Joe and Frank stood to the side, out of the way of the workers.

"Must be the artifacts," Joe said, pointing out large spray painted black lettering on the side of a crate that read "Edinburgh to New York".

"Which means the charmstone wasn't part of this shipment." Frank glanced around, and spotted several other crates in the far corner of the room, sitting inside an area cordoned off by a chain link cage. He hit Joe's arm and gestured with his head towards them.

Joe reached the fence first and tugged on the padlock that held the chain link gate to the alcove closed. "It's locked."

Frank peered through and stared at the crates. "They seem to be nailed shut."

"And in the original shipping containers." Joe looked at his brother. "Which begs the question...how did the charmstone get in Emily's office if it's still sealed up in this crate?"

"Is it?"

The main door to the room flew open and Frank watched as Duncan strode in, noting the mix of anger and frustration on his face. "Why didn't someone notify me that these crates had arrived?"

A well dressed, middle aged man with spiky blond hair and a clipboard standing near the loading dock turned to Duncan with a bored look on his face. "I called your office twice, you didn't answer. Perhaps if you checked your messages..."

Duncan reached his side and snatched the clipboard from his hands. "Yeah, well right now I don't have time to check messages. I have bigger problems."

The man crossed his arms and rolled his eyes as Duncan scanned the shipping invoices. "Then I guess you'll never know what's going on, will you?"

Duncan scribbled a signature across the top sheet of paper on the clipboard and handed it back to the blond haired man without another word.

Frank watched as Duncan turned and headed toward the fenced off area of the room.

"As you can see, the artifacts have arrived," Duncan announced.

"But the charmstone was supposed to be included with a smaller shipment, right?" Frank clarified as he approached him.

"Yeah, those boxes right behind you." Duncan gestured to the crates beyond the chain link fencing. He rummaged in his pocket, pulled out a key ring, and inserted a key in the padlock. "They haven't been opened yet."

"At least that you know of." Joe stepped into the cage and reached down for one of the smaller crates. "May I?"

Duncan nodded. "Bring it over here." He walked five feet over to a long table covered with packing supplies. Brushing aside the clutter, he motioned for Joe to set the box down.

"Just a minute." Frank carefully examined the crate. "It doesn't appear to have been tampered with."

Duncan reached for a crowbar and began tugging on the wooden slats. When the nails were out of the top, he reached inside for the hard sided case. Before he opened it, he donned a pair of latex gloves and hollered over his shoulder, "Evan, I need you to verify this."

The blond haired man strode over to him. "Can't it wait until I'm done checking off the other crates?"

"No, this is urgent. We think there may have been a theft."

Evan's face paled. "That's impossible. Of what?"

"The Campbell charmstone."

Evan violently shuffled through his papers. "There is no Campbell charmstone included in this shipment."

"What are you talking about? It was one of the artifacts from the Edinburgh museum they were insistent on sending."

Evan shook his head. "Duncan, if you're referring to the Breadalbane charmstone, it was stolen two weeks ago. Haven't you heard?"

Duncan's jaw dropped and his eyes widened. "Stolen?"

"Yes." Evan looked up from his clipboard. "I'm surprised you don't know. Don't you speak with anyone from Edinburgh anymore?"

"I-I've been so busy here getting ready for the exhibit, I haven't had time."

"Well, like I said, if you'd check your messages..."

"Wait," Frank interrupted. "This stolen charmstone was supposed to be part of this exhibit?"

"The director in Edinburgh wanted it to be," Duncan said, still dazed. "He said the exhibit wouldn't really be complete without one. I just assumed he was sending it."

"These are the things that are supposed to have magical powers?" Joe asked.

Evan snorted. "Don't believe everything you hear about that. According to the old Highlanders, everything in these shipments will 'bewitch' you if you aren't careful."

Duncan gave him an icy stare. "Don't be mocking something you don't understand."

"Listen," Evan said, tapping the clipboard with a pencil. "What I understand is that if I don't get moving, I'm not going be back in the city until after ten o'clock tonight. That's not going to work for me, so let's get done with the cataloging, okay?"

Duncan nodded. "Let's just check off that we've received the items and lock them up. I want my intern, Emily, to work on the cataloging."

Evan looked around the room, pointedly. "Well, where is she?"

"She had to leave early today," Duncan said, his mouth in a grim line. "She'll do it tomorrow."

Evan rolled his eyes. "Fine. Then let's get moving on this. I have to be back here tomorrow afternoon anyway. We can catalog then."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

After checking through all the artifacts that had arrived in the shipments and reconciling them with the invoices, Frank and Joe headed back to Emily's office. Unlocking the door with an extra set of museum keys, they stepped inside and began cleaning up.

"I'm going to check through these files." Frank bent down and scooped up some scattered papers resting on the debris. "See if anything catches my eye."

"Yeah, well I don't know if that'll do much good." Joe righted Emily's bookcase and began shelving the books that were scattered on the linoleum tiled floor. "If whoever broke in here found what he was looking for, I'm guessing he took it."

"Maybe." Frank carefully read over a document before inserting it into a manila file. "Or maybe he missed it. Or had to leave in a hurry."

"What do you think about that charmstone thing?"

"That's got me baffled," Frank admitted. "We definitely need to do more research on that. Maybe Dad could look into the theft at the Edinburgh museum."

"Are we sure it's even the same artifact?"

"Well, _I_ wouldn't know; that's for sure." Frank replaced the file he'd been reading in the cabinet. "Emily might though."

"Duncan has the charmstone, right?"

"He put it in the safe with some of the other artifacts. He didn't seem to really want to have anything to do with it." Frank reached for another file. "I think he really believes it's cursed."

"No kidding." Joe picked up Emily's stapler and set it back on her desk. "Don't you think that's weird?"

Frank shrugged. "To each his own, I guess. For what it's worth, I don't care about any supposed curse attached to it. What I want to know is how an artifact stolen from a museum in Edinburgh two weeks ago ended up here in Bayport."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Half an hour later, after returning Emily's office to some semblance of order, Frank and Joe headed upstairs to the security offices of the museum. They found Mitch, the head of security, sitting behind his desk, eating a sandwich and watching different screens on a bank of monitors along the far wall.

"Oh, there you are." He set down his sandwich on its wax wrapper and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. "Sorry, with all that's been happening around here, I didn't have time for lunch. Although, I guess it's more like dinner now."

"Are these all the cameras you have in the museum?" Joe walked toward the monitors.

"Yeah." Mitch finished wiping his hands and picking up a remote control, pointed it toward the monitors and pressed a button. "These are the tapes from earlier today. I'll start from when the museum opened."

Frank and Joe watched as they saw employees arriving through the employee entrance, chatting with each other.

"That's everyone who was on duty today. We all enter through the back door."

"And, there are no cameras in the office areas themselves," Frank mused as he watched. "So, do you have footage of all areas leading down to the basement?"

"Well, we do have cameras on the stairwell exits and the elevators, but if someone entered an elevator on, say, the third floor, and got off in the basement...we would have no way of knowing that. There are no cameras in front of the basement elevators or stairwells."

"Why not?" Joe wanted to know. "I mean there are priceless artifacts, paintings and sculpture all over this place. Why such a huge security gap?"

"That's what I've been asking for almost a year." Mitch shook his head. "I keep getting the same answer. No funding." He snorted. "Apparently, we're not a 'priority' in the finance department here. Maybe having someone murdered will finally wake those clowns up."

Joe had been studying the tapes carefully. "So, everyone who's gone up and down the stairs today was an employee?"

"As far as I could tell when I looked over the tapes." He took another bite of his sandwich. "I called my staff and they all said the same thing. They didn't see anything or anyone suspicious."

"Where's your staff now?" Frank asked.

"On the floor." Mitch picked up his soda and sipped through the straw. "There's a guard in each exhibit hall and two guards in the main lobby. That's eight on duty when the museum is open, including me."

"What about after hours?" Joe turned away from the monitors and walked to Mitch's desk.

"One guard on night duty. And that only happened after the murder. Otherwise we let the security system take care of it."

Frank nodded. "We have one more question. Chief Collig mentioned that on the day Professor Ayres was murdered, the monitor near the entrance of the new exhibit hall went black. Do you know why?"

Mitch shrugged. "No. It happens though. This museum doesn't have the best surveillance equipment out there. Not by a long shot."

"Has that particular camera gone out before?" Joe sat on the edge of the guard's desk.

"A couple of times. I think it's because of the construction they're doing in there. Whenever they use power tools, it seems to make the cameras go on the fritz. An overload on the circuits, maybe."

"Well, thank you." Frank stood and shook his hand. "You've been very helpful."

"You let me know if there's anything more I can do." He shook his head. "I feel real bad for Emily. She wasn't hurt or anything, was she?"

"She's pretty shaken up," Joe said.

Mitch shook his head. "Well, I'm going to be on the lookout now. She sure is a sweet girl. Pretty, too. I don't want anyone hurting her."

"I'm sure she'll appreciate that," Frank said as he stepped out the door.

"Do you mind if I come back sometime tomorrow and look at these tapes a little more closely?" Joe asked.

"Nope. I'm here all day." Mitch said, reaching for a handful of potato chips from the small bag on his desk.

"Great." Joe followed Frank out the door. "See you tomorrow."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"What do you think?" Frank asked when they exited the museum.

Joe paused in the pathway and turned to his brother. "There are cameras on every floor of the museum in front of the elevators and stairs except where they open in the basement, right?"

"Yeah, I think that's what Mitch said."

"So, if we were to look at all the footage shot yesterday, we should be able to figure out who entered the elevators or the stairwells and watch them get off."

"Unless they got off in the basement." Frank stopped and turned to Joe, a huge grin on his face. "That's genius, bro."

"It'll narrow down our search."

"It wouldn't be proof, but at least it would give us a place to start looking."

"That's what I'll be doing in the morning," Joe said as he got to the van.

"And I'll head downtown. Steve at Bayport Camera should be done analyzing the other surveillance tape from the murder. The one that went dark for eight minutes. I'm hoping he can tell me exactly what caused it."

"Sounds like a plan," Joe smiled as he climbed in the passenger seat. "Now let's go home and eat. I'm starving."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Thank you for the comment, Virtute! I love including real history in stories, because I'm such a history geek. LOL Also, to everyone reading, sorry about any typos you may find. I proofread and then proofread some more, but they STILL manage to show up. Grrr. Thanks again for reading!

Chapter 8

Emily walked through the employees' entrance to the museum the next morning, exhausted. She hadn't been able to sleep despite Stacey's fiancé, Eric, spending the night on their couch. She'd jumped at every little sound and lain awake for hours. The small amount of sleep she did manage to get was fitful and brief.

Stifling a yawn, she went over to her locker. She noticed the combination dial wouldn't turn. Something was jammed. Sighing, she yanked hard on the handle and the door flew open. The books she'd stored for some of her early classes were still in there, but they'd clearly been disturbed. Then she saw it...the pink rose at the bottom of her locker, resting on an index card with her name spelled out in large, capital letters.

OOOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe entered the Bayport University Art Museum at ten minutes after nine and strolled past the reception desk to the hidden corridor leading to the security office. He knocked on the door and found Mitch giving instructions to two of his guards.

"Hey, Joe." He gestured to the coffee machine on the long counter next to the entrance. "Grab yourself a cup. I'll be right with you."

Joe nodded and picked up a white Styrofoam cup. Filling it with fresh coffee, he dumped in a sugar packet and reached for a plastic stir stick. Leaning back against the counter, he blew on the drink and waited for Mitch to finish.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Frank opened the door of Bayport Camera on Main Street, the jingling bells tied to it announcing his presence. A young man with dark, curly hair appeared from the back room.

"Frank, good to see you. I didn't expect you back so soon."

"Am I too early, Steve? Have you had a chance to look at the tape yet?"

"Just got finished as a matter of fact."

Frank leaned on the glass display counter. "What can you tell me about it?"

"Well, I don't think there was anything wrong with the camera. I think it was turned off."

"How can you tell?"

"Let me show you." He gestured for Frank to come around the counter and led him into the back room. "I have it cued up." He hit a button on the video machine and the tape began to play. "Now see, this is the area the camera is trained on." He pointed at the entrance to the exhibit hall under construction. "See these numbers at the bottom?"

Frank nodded at the small white numbers showing the date and the time in the right hand corner.

"Now look. They're gone."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that the camera was turned off. If someone had thrown a towel or something over it, the numbers would have continued, you just would have seen a blank screen. If the transmission failed, you would have had eight minutes of snow, but the numbers still would have been there." Steve pointed to the screen again. "Watch, when it comes back on, the time shows eight minutes later."

"So, this wasn't some sort of equipment malfunction?" Frank turned to look at his friend's grim expression.

"No. This was turned off. And I don't mean the camera itself was physically switched off. That isn't possible. Someone turned it off from the control panel."

Frank sat back in his chair, his hand to his mouth, his face thoughtful. _It's definitely an inside job. _"That puts an interesting twist on things. Thanks, Steve."

"Glad to be of help." Steve ejected the tape and handed it back to Frank. "Hope you catch this loser. I had Professor Ayres for Humanities. He was a good guy."

"We'll do our best," Frank assured him.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily gasped and stepped back from her locker. She looked nervously around the room, half expecting to find someone lurking behind her. She stumbled as she grazed the corner of a metal locker, then turned and fled into the hallway. She paused, trying to catch her breath, then ran, as fast as her high heels would allow, up the stairs to the main floor. She reached the reception desk, out of breath and slightly panicked. Kim, who was on the phone, took one look at Emily and hung up.

"What's wrong?"

"Have you seen a security guard?" Emily asked, wishing her heart wasn't beating almost out of her chest. "I need one."

Kim's blue eyes widened. "Has someone else been murdered? Because, I swear, if that's happened again, I am out of here. My mom wanted me to quit when I told her about the professor, but I said she'd never be able to pay tuition without me working, but if there's another body–"

"No, no, it's nothing like that." Emily took a deep breath. "I need someone in security to come with me while I move some artifacts."

"Oh, okay. You had me for a minute there." Kim gestured over her shoulder. "Mitch is in his office. With one of those cute detectives."

Emily paused in mid-stride. "Which one?"

"The blond. Joe, right?" Kim sighed. "He is so dang good looking."

"Yes, he's very handsome," Emily said in a clipped tone. "Thanks for the heads-up." She walked down the corridor and sighed. _Okay, pull yourself together, Emily. You are not going to fall apart in front of Joe Hardy for the third day in a row._

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe had been carefully viewing the surveillance tapes from the previous day when he heard a light tapping on Mitch's office door. He turned from the monitor in time to see Emily stick her head inside.

"Is it all right if I interrupt?"

Mitch looked up from some paperwork at his desk. "Emily. You're not interrupting anything. What can I do for you, sweetie?"

Joe bristled at the term "sweetie", and judging by Emily's posture, she had, too.

When she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, Joe felt like he'd been hit by a truck going ninety miles an hour. She was wearing some pink sweater thing. A thin sweater that he knew would be impossibly soft to the touch. It had tiny pearl buttons on it and it covered another scoop-neck top of the same color and material. Her skirt was made of light gray wool and hugged her lower half in all the right places. He swallowed hard and watched as she walked toward Mitch.

"I, um, think I might have another problem," she began, her voice hesitant. "It seems as though my locker was broken into this morning. Or maybe last night, I'm not sure."

"What?" Mitch jumped up from his chair. "Tell me what happened."

Joe found himself on his feet hurrying to her side, in spite of his earlier resolve to distance himself from Emily Clark.

She explained what she'd encountered when she went to open her locker and ended with "and there was another rose."

Her voice trembled and Joe couldn't help himself from reaching out and placing a reassuring hand on her arm.

"Have you mentioned this to anyone else?" Mitch wanted to know.

Emily shook her head.

"Good, then let's get down there."

Mitch started out the door and Emily went to follow when Joe held her back. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, a little too brightly. "I'm sure it's just someone's idea of a sick joke." She walked through the security office door and after Mitch.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Joe muttered under his breath.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily shivered involuntarily as she entered the locker room after Mitch and Joe. Mitch immediately moved toward the rose and went to pick it up.

"Don't touch that," Joe warned.

"Why not?"

"It's evidence." Joe walked over to Emily's locker. "I can't have you disturbing the crime scene until we've taken photos and catalogued everything."

"Says who?" Mitch challenged.

Joe sighed and pulled out the badge he'd been given. "Chief Collig. Now, if you wouldn't mind calling the police department and asking them to send a photographer, I'll wait here and guard the crime scene."

Mitch's eyes had a challenging look in them. "The security of this museum is my responsibility, Hardy. Not yours."

"Then maybe you'd better get working on that so we don't have to keep coming here and photographing crime scenes." _Jackass._

"Why you..." Mitch made a move towards him, but stopped himself. "You're right." He squared his shoulders. "This never should have happened. I'm going to post a few guards down here to make sure it'safe." He turned to Emily. "I'll have one right outside your office door whenever you're here. This won't happen again."

She gave him a wan smile. "Thank you, Mitch."

The security officer turned to go, pausing as he looked back at Joe. "I'll call the station right away."

Joe watched Emily who seemed to be waiting for Mitch's footsteps to die away before she spoke. She finally moved to his side. "I think he's upset with you."

"Yeah? Well, good. Because I'm upset with him." He shook his head. "What kind of half-assed security team runs this museum? In the past three days there's been a murder and two acts of vandalism."

"But Joe, they're not used to dealing with this sort of thing." She looked at the rose of top of the overturned books in her locker. "I mean, nobody expects stuff like this to happen."

"As a security officer, you have to expect bad stuff to happen. That's his job." He threw his hands up in the air. "He hasn't done one damn thing to keep you safe as far as I'm concerned."

Emily's voice came out very small. "Does all this mean that someone wants to hurt me? It isn't just some information they're after?"

Joe's heart lurched in his chest. She was clearly terrified and all he wanted to do was go over to her, put his arms around her and tell her everything would be fine. He jammed his hands in his pockets to prevent it. "I don't know. There haven't been any overt threats against you, but to be honest, these roses worry me."

She nodded and tried a smile. "It seems to add that psycho touch to the whole thing."

She was trying so hard to be brave. He noticed the dark smudges under her eyes. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Not really. I tried, but I couldn't stop worrying."

"Was Eric able to spend the night?" Joe couldn't keep the edge out of his voice.

"Yeah, he was great." She bent her head. "It didn't really help though. I was still scared."

_Okay, the hell with this._ He began to move close and do what his body kept telling him to do. _Hold her. Comfort her. Give her some reassurance._

Emily jumped when Duncan's brogue was heard in the hallway along with two other voices. Joe stopped. Frank, Duncan, Mitch and Chief Collig entered the room. Collig handed Frank the camera he had on him. "Shoot it."

Frank took it and approached the locker. "Another rose?"

Joe nodded as Frank got into position and began to click the shutter.

"I don't like this, Joe."

"Neither do I."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The only sound in the security control room was the whirring of the computers as Duncan removed the charmstone from the small safe in the wall. He quickly handed it to Chief Collig, who examined it more closely under the light on Mitch's desk.

"The museum in Edinburgh wants photographs faxed to them, obviously. But they think it's the real thing from the description." He looked up at Frank. "Could you take care of that? Front and back of the piece, note any identifying marks, and give the film to the police lab. Tell them I said it's urgent. We should be able to get it taken care of today."

Frank nodded.

"We'll label it as evidence and keep it down at the station until we get word from Edinburgh on it." He turned to Emily. "Now young lady, I have some questions for you."

She looked up startled. "Okay."

"Can you tell me why this stolen piece was found in your office?"

"N-no. I've never seen it before in my life."

"Hmmm." Collig paced the room and came to stand in front of her. "Have you been here in Bayport for the past three weeks? And do you have someone who could vouch for your whereabouts?"

"Yes, I'm a student. I've been here at the university all semester. Anyone who knows me could tell you that."

"Have you had contact with anyone who's been abroad recently? Like maybe someone who's been in Scotland?"

"Um, yeah, I'm sure I have." Emily twisted her hands nervously. "I mean, I've talked to lots of people since Duncan asked me to work on the Scottish clans exhibit. I'm sure some of them have been to Scotland recently."

"Any of them have access to this charmstone?" Collig dangled it in front of her.

"Stop it," Joe called out. "Emily, you don't have to answer that."

Joe's stomach was roiling with anger as he crossed the room and stood in front of Collig. "Are you questioning her as a suspect, Chief? Because you know better than I do that she hasn't been read her rights nor does she have an attorney present."

"A suspect?" Emily's eyes went wide and all the color drained from her face. "You mean you think I had something to do with stealing that thing?"

Collig's face softened at her clear distress, until he turned back to his least favorite Hardy brother. "No," he snapped at Joe. "She's not a suspect. And I don't need, nor will I stand for, you telling me how to do my job."

Joe's voice was calm and measured as he forced himself to control his temper. "Fine. But I won't have anybody upsetting her. She's the victim here and she's already been through enough."

Collig's eyes narrowed as he met Joe's unwavering gaze. The chief nodded his head. "She's not a suspect. I just wanted to see if she knew something that might be helpful."

"Well, obviously she doesn't."

Collig returned the charmstone to the evidence bag and handed it to Frank. "I need to get back to the station. I'm expecting the coroner's report on Ayres today and I want to be there when it comes in."

He turned to Joe. "Whatever you find out in regards to the vandalism here...I want to know about it." He glanced towards Emily then back at Joe. "No matter what it is. Got that, Hardy?"

"Got it, Chief."

Frank grinned and rolled his eyes as he started to follow Collig out the door. "I'll talk to you later," he told Joe.

Emily turned to go and Duncan called after her.

"Hey, don't forget I need the final numbers for the banquet ticket sales before noon."

She nodded and hurried out the door, her head bent. Joe ran after her.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked as he caught up to her, matching her stride.

"Not really." She stopped in the hallway and looked up at him. "He thinks I had something to do with stealing that charmstone."

"Emily, don't let the Chief get to you. His bark is worse than his bite."

"He scared me." She gazed at him with watery eyes. "Thank you for standing up for me. I had nothing to do with stealing it, Joe. I didn't even know it existed until today."

He put his hands on her shoulders. "I know you didn't. Don't worry, Collig knows that, too. He's going to question everyone here, though. It's his job. Even if he is an ass about it."

She smiled. "Well, anyway, I meant what I said. Thank you."

"No problem." Joe smiled back and brushed a stray curl back over her shoulder. "It's never a problem helping a beautiful woman in distress."

Emily blushed and moved away from him. "I need to get back to my office and get that information Duncan wanted."

"Yeah, what was he talking about anyway? Some sort of banquet?"

"It's the museum's annual fundraiser. A swanky, black-tie dinner, complete with dancing afterwards. It's this Friday and Duncan wants the final numbers." She turned to Joe. "Would you and Frank like an invitation? Normally, we don't have extras, it's always been sold out. But since the murder, we've had patrons cancel on us."

"Sure," he said. "It might be a good time to do a little investigating."

"Great." Emily smiled as they reached the elevators. "I'll grab invitations for both of you, if you don't mind following me to the dungeon."

"I wasn't going to let you go alone." Joe pushed the down button. "In fact, I don't mind staying here while you work. I don't like the idea that the nut who ransacked your office and your locker might be lurking around here somewhere."

"You're very sweet," she said with a smile. "But Duncan has a guard down there now, and I'm really only staying for a few minutes. I have classes until two this afternoon."

They stepped on the elevator and Joe turned to her. "Then I'll stay for a few minutes until you have what you need."

"Okay," she agreed. "But if you get bored, don't hesitate to go."

"I won't be bored."

She blushed again as they reached the basement. She and Joe nodded to the guard at the end of the hall and Emily held her breath as she approached her office door. Joe took the key from her shaking hand and opened the door. She breathed a sigh of relief when she turned on the light.

"You guys straightened up for me. Thank you so much."

"I don't know if we got everything back where you want it, but we tried."

"It's wonderful." Her smile was warm as she turned to him. "You don't know how much I was dreading coming back to a torn apart office."

She moved to her desk and opened a drawer, pulling out two invitations. "For you and Frank. Oh, and you're welcome to bring dates."

Joe grinned. "Really?"

"Of course." She gave him a dimpled smile. "Unless you and Frank want to dance with each other."

"Nah, he always steps on my toes." Joe sat on the edge of her desk. "You're coming to this, right?"

"I have to. It's part of my job."

"I thought you said it was going to be a fun night."

"It is fun...if you're a guest." She reached into a drawer and grabbed a file folder. "Not so much when you have to schmooze wealthy patrons and try to get them to write you a check." She opened the folder and pulled out a piece of paper. "Can I put you and Frank down as attending?"

Joe crossed his arms in front of him. "Yeah, sure. And, I'll try hard to get a date."

Emily smiled as she wrote their names on the list. "I'm sure you won't have any problem with that."

"I won't?"

"Nope. I'm sure whoever you ask will be happy to go with you."

Joe grinned. "That's good to know."

Emily looked up at the clock. "Oh gosh, I've got to get going. My class starts in five minutes."

"Can I walk you?"

"Oh, well, it's just across the green in the Fine Arts building. Stacey and Eric are waiting for me outside. You're welcome to join us if you're headed that way."

Emily scooped up the file and moved to her office door. "I'm just going to drop this off in Duncan's office first."

Joe's lips tightened into a thin line at the mention of Eric's name. "Um, actually I think I need to call Frank. Do you mind if I borrow your phone?"

"Not at all." She paused at the door. "I guess I'll see you later, then?"

"Yeah, definitely."

"Have a great day, Joe. And thanks again for your help this morning. I don't know what I would have done without you. Oh...would you mind shutting my office door when you leave?"

"Not a problem. And Emily?"

"Yes?" She looked at him with her large green eyes and suddenly he couldn't seem to remember his name.

"Um, be careful out there, okay? Call me if you need anything."

She gave him a huge smile. "I will. Thank you."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"So, they didn't find any fingerprints on this thing?" Fenton held up the charmstone while Frank fiddled with his camera.

"Nope." Frank motioned for Fenton to set the crystal on the surface of the table in the police station. "Which is odd in itself, don't you think?"

"Not if you're a professional thief."

Frank looked through the lens and clicked the shutter. "Yes, but it also means that whoever got hold of it here knew not to touch it."

"So, you think it was shipped here? Not brought over in person?" Fenton carefully turned the charmstone over so Frank could photograph the back of it.

"I think that would have been much easier, don't you?"

Fenton shrugged. "Depends. It would have been just as easy to shove it in a suitcase as an envelope."

"So, we need to check and see who might have visited the museum recently who'd also just been in Scotland?"

"That's a place to start, but it's probably too easy."

Fenton rubbed his chin, lost in thought, while Frank snapped several more photos.

"You know," he said, turning to his son. "I think what you need to do is figure out why the charmstone showed up where it did in the first place. I'm guessing that'll lead you right to the culprit."

Frank set the camera down on the table and carefully replaced the charmstone in an evidence bag. "Seeing it sure freaked Duncan out, that's for sure."

"Maybe that's why it's here."

Frank nodded. "Maybe. Maybe someone doesn't like him or wants this Scottish clans exhibit to tank."

"Or maybe somebody just wants him out of Bayport." Fenton patted his son on the back. "I think you need to find out more about Duncan MacLean."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe waved to his brother across the periodicals section of the Bayport University library later that afternoon. Frank nodded and strolled towards him. He dropped his backpack onto the large wooden table where Joe was seated and slid into the chair next to him.

"What have you got?"

"Not much." Joe gestured towards the yellow legal tablet he was writing on. "A little information on where Duncan is from, where he worked before, his credentials, that sort of thing." He tapped on the newspaper. "This article was interesting. Apparently, Duncan MacLean is world renowned in his knowledge of Scottish clans and their history."

"Hmm." Frank leaned over and began reading.

"I thought I'd call the university in Edinburgh and talk to some people who worked with him there. Maybe get some insight into his personality."

"You mean why he's so superstitious about all this stuff?"

"Yeah. I won't come right out and ask, but hopefully I can get someone who is willing share some personal information." Joe leaned back in his chair. "I think I'll pretend I'm a reporter doing a feature on Duncan. I'll tell whomever I speak to that they can remain anonymous if they want."

"Hoping that'll loosen some tongues?"

"Yep. What have you come up with?"

"Well," Frank began with a sigh, as he pushed the newspaper away from him, "Collig said the police in Edinburgh called him, verifying that the charmstone is in fact the same one that was stolen. At least from what it looks like in the photos we faxed. They want to see it in person, obviously."

"Is Collig sending it to them?"

"He can't. It's evidence. They'll have to send a representative here or wait until the whole mess goes to court."

"Does he think it's related to Professor Ayres murder?"

"He's not sure, but he doesn't want to take any chances."

Joe nodded. "It sure would make things easier if we knew whether the vandalism was a separate incident or all part of some screwy plot to either ruin the museum exhibit in general or Duncan specifically."

"And, why Emily?" Frank asked. "The vandalism seems to be targeting her. What could a lowly intern know that would invoke that kind of wrath from someone?"

"Don't forget the roses." Joe drummed his fingers on the table. "Those really have me worried. That seems to make it personal."

"In a sicko stalker kind of way." Frank sighed. "And, we have no motive for Professor Ayres' murder and no clues."

Joe shook his head. "This case is turning into a bigger mess every day."

Frank looked at his watch. "Too late to call Scotland now. What do you say we head home? Aunt Gertrude should be just about ready to serve dinner. And, if we're not there..."

Joe chuckled. "I don't want my dessert taken away tonight. I'm too hungry." He folded the newspapers and put them on the return cart. "Let's see if we can beat Dad."

"Last time I saw Dad, he was shooting the bull in Collig's office. He'll definitely have lost track of time."

"Dibs on his dessert," Joe said, grinning like a twelve year old as he dashed for the staircase to the main floor of the library, leaving his brother to catch up with him.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"There you are," Joe said the next morning, hurrying to catch up to his brother as they walked across campus towards the museum.

"Hey, did you find out anything about Duncan?" Frank adjusted his backpack and looked expectantly at his brother.

Joe shook his head. "Another model citizen, apparently. I did the interview bit with two of his colleagues at the university in Edinburgh and someone who worked with him in the museum there. They all said he was a great guy."

"It figures," Frank sighed. "Another brick wall. I think I'm going to spend some time going over those security tapes again. They're the only concrete thing we have right now showing who went where in that museum on the days the crimes occurred."

"Hey, Joe!" a female voice called out from behind them. The brothers both turned to find an attractive blonde smiling as she hurried towards them.

"Heather?" Joe seemed surprise. "I didn't know you were going to school here."

"Yeah, I just started this semester." She stopped in front of them and reached out to give Joe a hug. "The modeling thing didn't quite work out the way I wanted, so here I am." She patted his back. "Wow, it's great to see you."

"You too," Joe said. "You remember my brother Frank."

Heather smiled in his direction. "Of course. Hi, Frank."

"Heather," he nodded.

"So, what are you up to?" she asked, turning her full attention back to Joe.

"Studying, working, the usual."

"Still doing the detective thing?"

"Yeah, I plan on going into business full-time with my dad and Frank when school is over."

She nodded. "Hey, how about if we go get something to eat? I didn't have time for breakfast this morning and I'm starved."

"Well, any other time I'd love to, but I'm actually working on a case right now and if I don't get going, I'll be late for an appointment."

Her face fell. "Darn. Maybe another time?"

"You can count on it," Joe said with a smile.

"Great. I live in Harrison Hall. Look me up, okay?"

"Sure," Joe agreed as Heather flung her arms around his neck again.

She turned to leave with a "Bye boys," and a wave.

"I see she still has a thing for you," Frank said with a chuckle as they watched her cross the green and run towards the student union.

"I tried to let her down easy," Joe said with a mock sigh.

Frank rolled his eyes.

"No, seriously, I did. After prom, I told her it was over."

"Well, she apparently didn't get the message."

"She'll forget about me in an hour. Her attention span isn't the greatest."

Frank laughed as they reached the museum entrance. "I'm not going to say anything."

"I was in high school. I didn't date her for her brains." Joe pushed through the heavy doors into the lobby.

Frank stopped, opened his mouth, then paused. "No. I'm not going to say it. It's killing me, but I'm not going to say it."

"Oh, there you are!" Duncan's Scottish brogue stopped Joe from responding to his brother. "I sent Emily downstairs to start cataloging the exhibit artifacts. I thought you might want to see how that's done before we have our meeting."

"Sounds great," Joe said, all thoughts of Heather immediately leaving his mind.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily was standing in front of a long table in the preservation room of the museum, painstakingly marking each artifact as Evan unpacked it into a logbook.

After carefully examining the piece for damage or evidence of infestation from insects, she placed it on the black fabric underneath the museum's special camera that allowed the object to be photographed without damaging it.

"Ready?" Emily called out to Evan who was working the camera.

"Yep." Evan repositioned the camera. "Well, wait a minute." He made several adjustments to the lens then snapped several photos. "Rory Mor's horn, huh?"

"Yep," Emily said with a smile. "It's going to freak Duncan out. He didn't think it should have been moved from Dunvegan castle."

Evan shook his head. "Superstitious old goat. He drives me nuts, you know that?"

She smiled as she removed the ox horn and carefully replaced it in its box surrounded by foam. "Then I think the feeling is mutual. His blood pressure rises a good twenty points when you're in the building, Evan."

He grinned at her. "So, his face turning bright red whenever I'm around isn't because of a sunburn?"

"Nope." She lifted another box onto the table and carefully removed a jewel-handled dirk, placing it on the cushioned mat so she could examine it. "That would be the flush of anger you're seeing and it's all your doing."

"Then my mission here is complete," he chuckled. He let out a low whistle. "Man, those are some serious rocks on that thing."

"That's why the guards are standing outside the door."

Evan leaned down to examine the knife. "Well, I guess if you're going to stab someone, you might as well do it in style."

"The Highland chiefs were men after your own heart, Evan."

He brushed some invisible lint off his very expensive suit. "You know what I like to say, honey...it's never wrong to look good. And, that's where Duncan needs to listen to me. He is extremely attractive. He really should dress better."

Before Emily could reply, the door to the lab opened and Duncan stepped in with Frank and Joe behind him.

"Speak of the devil," Evan murmured. "Watch how fast he turns red."

He moved towards the group, his hand outstretched. "Well, good morning Dr. MacLean. Nice of you to finally show up. We're just about finished."

Duncan seethed as he greeted Evan, the color rising fast on his cheeks. Emily giggled from across the room.

"I had other matters to attend to, Evan. Like an entire museum to run."

"Oh really?" Evan straightened the cuffs on his impeccably pressed shirt. "Funny, I thought that was the director's job." He snapped his fingers as he looked towards the ceiling. "A Mr. Perriton, isn't it? He's the museum director, right?"

Duncan pushed past him. "I really don't have time for your nonsense this morning." Gesturing behind him he added, "You remember Frank and Joe Hardy from yesterday. They're here to observe the cataloging process."

Evan reached out to shake their hands. "Nice to see you again. Sorry you have to work with such a...well, never mind." He turned to head back to the table and Frank and Joe exchanged grins as they followed him across the room.

Emily came around to the front of the worktable and Joe's mouth went dry. So far, he'd only seen her in business clothes. Today she was wearing jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt. The only word that went through Joe's head was "amazing". He couldn't stop staring. The way her jeans hugged the bottom half of her body and the way her t-shirt clung to the top half made him a little dizzy. He watched as she moved towards a larger box on the floor and bent over to lift something out of it.

"You're drooling," Frank whispered, a look of amusement covering his face.

"Hey, does someone want to help me with this claymore?" Emily looked over her shoulder towards the men. "It's not very heavy, but it's a bit unwieldy and I don't want to take anyone's head off with it."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Duncan apologized. "Wait, Em." He donned a pair of latex gloves and moved to her side. Together they lifted it onto the second table in the room.

"Would you two like to take a look at this?" Duncan gestured to Frank and Joe.

"It's the weaponry stuff you told me you liked." Emily gave Joe a dimpled smile as he reached her side. "You know the art you 'actually wanted to see.'"

He grinned back at her. "It's really cool. How old is it?"

"About six hundred years," Duncan replied. "Scottish warriors used these in clan battles from about thirteen hundred to seventeen hundred."

"Wow, I'd hate to get hit with one of these," Frank commented.

"It would split your skull right open," Duncan said. "And it took serious skill and training to handle one properly. It weighs around five and a half pounds."

"Can I pick it up?" Joe asked.

Emily held out the box of gloves. "Put these on first."

Joe snapped the gloves on his hands, then lifted the claymore off the table.

"Two hands," Duncan called out. "It's a two handed weapon."

Joe's eyes lit up as he tested the weight in his hands. He stepped backwards and made a swipe with it.

Emily giggled. "You're a born warrior."

He smiled at her. "This is amazing." He made another swipe through the air.

"Of course, you know Joe," Frank began, "to be a true Highland warrior, you'd need to wear a kilt."

"Those guys fought in skirts?" Joe chuckled as he laid the claymore back down on the table. "No wonder their swords were so big."

"Hey, don't you be mocking our plaid," Duncan warned with a smile on his face. "We Scots are fiercely proud of our clan colors."

Joe leaned in to get a closer look at the carving on the handle. "Not mocking it at all. I'm just saying I wouldn't be comfortable fighting in a skirt."

Emily gave him a teasing grin. "And you'd _only_ be wearing a skirt. You know Highland warriors didn't wear anything under their kilts."

"And how would you be knowing that, lassie?" Duncan asked, drawing out his brogue. "Been peeking under the plaid of some handsome, young lad? You know it's rude to ask what's under a man's plaid, don't you?" He leaned against the table and crossed his arms. "But if a Highlander is particularly proud of his...er...assets, he may just show them to you anyway."

Emily rolled her eyes. "Then I guess I haven't met any Highlanders who've been impressive enough, because my knowledge is all hearsay."

"Okay, I've heard enough," Evan said, holding up his hands. "I have a gallery opening tonight in the city and I need to get back. Can we please just finish here? Before he starts telling us all about the Loch Ness monster and other crap like that?"

Emily laughed as she started writing down information about the claymore in the log. "Sounds good to me. I have a test to study for before my afternoon class." She turned to Joe. "Hey, since you have gloves on, would you mind grabbing the attaché case behind the crate the claymore was in and bringing it here?"

"Sure." Joe stepped over the wooden box that contained the sword. "Wait, is the sword crate supposed to be empty?"

"Well, we're only supposed to have one artifact per crate or it could get damaged." Emily looked up. "Why?"

"Then someone in Edinburgh doesn't know the rules." Joe lifted up a small, ornately carved, box he spotted tucked under the shredded packing material.

Duncan looked puzzled as he moved forward. "What on earth have you got there? Those are Celtic designs on the outside."

"One way to find out." Joe put the box on the table near Emily and lifted up the small rusty latch on it as Frank, Duncan and Evan gathered around. He pulled out a large round crystal. "Does anyone know what this is?"

Duncan's eyes grew huge and he paled and stepped backwards.

"What?" Joe asked, holding up the crystal, about the size of a small apple. "Is this worth a lot of money or something?"

"It's, it's a witch box," Duncan hissed.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"A witch box?" Joe fingered the carved, raised symbols on the container. "What the heck is a witch box?"

Duncan gulped and surveyed the wooden box, which sat so innocently on the table in front of him. "They were used in the sixteenth century to ward off witches." He cleared his throat. "They, um, were generally sold to someone who was in need of protection from evil. The box would contain something, usually herbs or even human bones, which would defend whoever was in possession of the box from spells that might have been cast on them."

"Wait," Frank interrupted. "You're talking real witches? Or what people thought were real witches at the time, since nobody believes in that hocus-pocus nonsense anymore?"

Duncan looked at him sharply. "As I said to your brother, don't be mocking something you don't understand."

"Um, what I understand is that there is an artifact in that container that was not requisitioned and not accounted for," Evan said, grabbing his clipboard and flipping furiously through the pages attached to it. "Where in the hell did it come from?"

Joe turned the box over and began examining it. "So this is real then? It's from the sixteenth century?"

"I, I can't be sure without a closer examination," Duncan hesitated, then backed away from the box, clearly disturbed by its presence.

Emily touched Joe on the arm. "Let me have a look."

He set it back down on the table and she reached for the movable magnifying light attached to the table. She pulled it over and turned it on, adjusting it so she could see the markings on the box more clearly. "It's definitely old. Not a reproduction." She looked over her shoulder, "Evan?"

He set the clipboard down and as Emily stepped back, he peered into the magnifying lens. After a moment, he looked up. "Late fifteenth, possibly early sixteenth century, made in England, near the Scottish border, rather a crude design, but still attractive enough. Value undetermined without closer analysis."

"You sound like an auction catalog," Emily smiled.

"What about this crystal thingy?" Joe asked. "Is this another charmstone?"

Evan took it from him and held it up to the light. "Yes, and a very nice one, I might add." He glanced at Duncan, who was pale and sweating. "I think someone in Scotland is playing a ridiculous prank on you. And, I hope it was worth their getting fired for, because when I report this to Edinburgh, heads are going to roll."

"It's a message." Duncan's voice was hoarse.

"A message?" Frank asked. "For whom?"

"I don't know." Duncan shook his head and walked over to the water cooler against the far wall. His hands shook as he filled the paper cup. He gulped down the water then turned to face them. "But the message is very clear. Someone here needs protection against evil."

Joe set the charmstone back down in the box and put his hands on his hips. "So, let me see if I've got this straight. These charmstones have been turning up, either as a sign of evil or some sort of protection against it, but you don't know which? And, you don't know who the warning or protection is intended for?" He looked at Duncan. "Don't you think that's a little vague?"

"Like I said," Evan began as he walked around the table, "I think it's someone's idea of a joke. Someone in Edinburgh knows you're a superstitious nut job and wants to freak you out to the point where we need to get some men to bring you a little white jacket with the arms that tie in back." He picked up the clipboard and moved to the door. "Now, I'm going to call Edinburgh and get to the bottom of this, because I will not be responsible for carelessly shipped and undocumented artifacts." He shook his head as he stepped through the doorway. "Try and pull yourself together, Duncan."

As Evan left, Emily cleared her throat and moved to the phone on the wall. "I'll just have security come and make sure all of this stuff gets locked up."

Duncan nodded, but didn't move.

Joe looked at Frank. "You think we should tell Collig about this?"

"Not until we know more about what's going on. Duncan seems to view this as some sort of threat, but maybe it was just a shipping error."

Joe reached back and touched the crystal again. "Somehow I doubt that."

Frank sighed. "Yeah, me too."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Twenty minutes later, while Mitch and the security team were in the shipping room with Emily and Duncan, Frank and Joe headed for Mitch's office. Still wearing the latex gloves he had on earlier, Joe began searching Mitch's desk while Frank moved over to the bank of monitors.

"Make sure you have on the feed for the stairwells and elevators on the main floor. I want to know when someone is headed this way." Joe reminded him.

"Will do." He pushed in the code Mitch had given him the day before to pull up the video from the day Emily's office was ransacked and the day she got the note in her locker. "Find anything yet?"

"Nothing interesting." Joe closed the middle drawer in Mitch's desk. "How about you?"

"Not so far." Frank reached into his shirt pocket for the tiny spiral notepad he kept there. "I'm just writing down who got on the elevators or used the stairwells and where they got off."

They worked in silence for a few moments, and then Frank said, "Hey, Joe?"

"Yeah?"

"Come look at this."

Joe walked over to the bank of monitors. "What's up?"

"Here," Frank pointed to the screen. "This security guard takes the elevator to the third floor offices and gets off, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"But then look." Frank pressed the remote control to speed up the scene. "He exits the stairwell from the basement to the lobby. Without ever having gotten back on the third floor elevator or having gone down the stairs from the third floor to the basement. See, it's the same guy. Look at his shoes. They're brown, not black like the rest of the guards."

"What?" Joe leaned forward. "Let me see that again."

Frank replayed the tape and Joe looked at him. "What time is on the video?"

"Um, around one forty-five."

"We went down to Emily's office right after two p.m. on that day, remember?"

Frank nodded slowly. "Whoever this guard is..."

"Is the one who ransacked her office," Joe finished. He began to pace the room. "He obviously didn't want anyone knowing he'd been in the

basement. And, he kept his head down in front of the cameras so nobody could identify him."

"So he took the elevator to the third floor and somehow from there, got down to the basement," Frank surmised.

"And, I'll bet he was still in the office when he heard Emily and me coming down the stairs."

"That's why he couldn't take whatever secret passageway, hidden staircase, or fire escape he used before to get back up to the third floor and get on the elevator there."

"If he'd done that, no one would be the wiser looking at these tapes."

Frank turned off the video and stood up. "We need the floor plans for this building."

"We also need to look at the video Collig has from the day Ayres was murdered again. Except that now we need to pay attention to who got on and off the third floor elevators and see if we can find a match for our security guard."

Frank sighed. "That's going to be tough. We don't even know what he really looks like. It could be anyone."

"Yeah, well let's get out of here. I'd just as soon Mitch didn't know we're that interested in these tapes. Just in case."

"I agree." Frank headed for the door. "I'll go downtown and try to get the blueprints for this building. The architect would have had to file them with the city during construction."

"And I'll head over to the police station." Joe grinned. "I don't think I've harassed Chief Collig near enough lately.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

As Joe walked through the lobby on his way out of the museum, he spotted Brian, the young man from the group home, taping some posters about the museum banquet to the main doors. "Looks like it's going to be an exciting night," he commented.

Brian smiled at him. "It's a big party," he said in a slow, measured voice. "Lots of people are coming. Are you coming, Joe?"

"I think so," he replied. "I don't have a date though." He glanced around. "I guess Emily will be there, huh?"

Brian nodded his head vigorously. "I heard her talk about it already. She has to come. She works here."

"I see," Joe said. "So that means she probably has to come by herself then."

"Oh, no. She's not coming by herself. She has a date." Brian gave a sheepish smile. "Emily is so pretty. Lots of guys like her. They're always coming in to talk to her."

Joe felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. _Well, you got your answer, Hardy. How many more hints do you need?_ "She has a date? You're sure about that?"

"Yeah," Brian said. He picked up the tape dispenser and walked toward the reception desk. "Bye, Joe."

Joe gave him a half wave and exited through the museum's main doors. He sighed as he headed toward the parking lot. _Damn it, I really wanted to take her to this banquet. And, I thought by the way she was talking that she wanted to go with me, too._ He shook his head. _I guess I'll never understand women. _He reached the van and inserted the key in the driver's side door. _Clearly I need to move on though. I have to get overthis...this thing I seem to have for her. _As he opened the door, he caught a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of his eye.

"I thought that was you, Joe." Heather Howell bounced up to him. "Wow, how weird that I'd run into you twice in one day."

"Yeah," Joe smiled then he paused. "Hey Heather, what are you doing this weekend?"

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"Heather?" Frank asked Joe when they met up at home later that afternoon. "You're bringing Heather Howell to the museum dinner?"

"Yeah, you have a problem with that?" Joe got a defensive look on his face.

Frank shook his head. "Joe, describing Heather Howell as vacuous would be kind." He dropped the file he was holding on Fenton's desk. "I know you're not interested in her."

"You're right. I'm not. But she's fun. She knows how to have a good time."

"I'll bet she does," Frank said with a smirk.

"That's not what I meant."

"No. That's what I meant." He perched on the edge of the desk. "I thought you were a little more serious about Emily."

"I'm over her." He crossed his arms in front of him. "You know, maybe you were right. Maybe she really is interested in you. Because she could care less about me. Why don't you go for it?"

Frank waved his hand in the air dismissively. "I'm not looking for a girlfriend."

"Not one who lives in Bayport, anyway," Joe said, with a sly grin.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I've noticed that you haven't dated anyone seriously since we got back from that case in Hollywood six months ago. Not since that little episode in the hotel lobby with someone whose initials are 'N. D.'"

"You're imagining things."

"I imagined you kissing her?"

Frank's face turned crimson. "You were reading something into it that just wasn't there. We were celebrating the end of the case."

"Mmm, and is that how you usually celebrate the end of a case? Because...and correct me if I'm wrong...I don't recall you kissing any of the other detectives at the convention."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

"And, let's see..." Joe leaned against the filing cabinet crossing his arms in front of him. "Who _are _you taking to the museum dinner, anyway?

"Callie."

"Callie Shaw? Dad's office assistant? The girl you've been friends with since third grade but have had no romantic interest in beyond the Junior Prom? She's your date?"

Frank sighed deeply and looked at the ceiling. "Yes, she's my date."

"I rest my case."

"Okay, how did this conversation become about my love life?"

"I'm just sayin'," Joe remarked, a grin on his face.

"Let's make a deal. I'll stay out of your love life and you stay out of mine."

"Agreed." Joe stuck his hand out and Frank shook it.

"Although I do reserve the right to complain about Heather Howell if I'm forced to spend more than five minutes with her," Frank muttered.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll sit between you." Joe gestured towards the blueprints Frank was holding. "So, did you find our secret passageway?"

Frank spread them out across Fenton's desk. "I don't know." He reached for a stapler and a Rolodex to hold down the edges of the paper. "Here's the problem. The entire northeast section of the museum was remodeled six years ago. The city doesn't have the original blueprints on file anymore. According to these blueprints, there is no secret passageway or hidden staircase or anything like that."

"But if we could get our hands on the old blueprints, we might be able to see where it could be."

"What I'm thinking is that somehow during the remodel, a new wall was built over an existing staircase or even an old freight elevator or something like that."

"Makes sense," Joe agreed. "But how are we going to find out if these blueprints don't show it?"

Frank grinned. "It looks like we're going to have to get creative."

"Ah, creative," Joe smirked. "That would be the code word for 'illegal.'"

Frank rolled up the blueprints. "I never said that."

Joe clapped him on the shoulder. "You didn't have to."

"I figured the night of the banquet might be a good one to search the building," Frank proposed. "The guards will be busy downstairs and one of us can sneak up to the third floor and see what we can find."

"Sounds like a plan." Joe sniffed the air. "Are those chocolate chip cookies I smell?"

"I think so." Frank gave him a sideways glance. "What do you say we go sweet talk Aunt Gertrude?"

"Well, how about you sweet talk her? I'll just steal some cookies while she's not looking."

Frank rolled his eyes as they headed down the hall toward the kitchen.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, Leya and Virtute! I appreciate the comments on pacing. I want to make the case seem like it's unfolding naturally (with Frank and Joe not really knowing what the heck is going on yet), so I force myself to try and maintain a realistic pace. And, as far as brotherly teasing goes...that's my favorite stuff to write. I love banter...especially between these two guys. They make it easy. Thanks again to everyone who is reading! I appreciate it and hope you enjoy this chapter.

Chapter 12

The museum lobby had been transformed. Tiny white lights were strung everywhere, giving off a sparkling glow. Round tables filled the space, covered with white tablecloths and Scottish tartan. A string quartet at the far end of the room was playing background music, lending an elegant touch to the festivities.

"Oooh, Joe, this is so pretty," squealed Heather, clinging to his arm as she looked around her.

Joe grinned. "I figured you'd like it."

"I do," she replied. "Everything is so elegant."

Frank stepped up beside his brother. "Know where we're sitting?"

"No. I guess we're supposed to mingle first." Joe looked around, then tapped Frank on the arm. "I think we need to check in."

Frank nodded as he saw a small line forming by a table near the main entrance. He steered Callie in that direction.

She leaned into him as they took their place in line. "I can't believe someone was actually murdered here."

"Yeah." Frank's lips tightened into a thin line. "And so far he's gotten away with it."

Callie patted his arm. "You'll get him. You always do."

Frank chuckled. "I'm glad you're so confident."

"Hey, I haven't worked for your dad for this long and not learned a thing or two about the Hardy family. You won't give up until you find him." She turned her head and then sucked in her breath. "Who is that?"

Frank, Joe and Heather all turned in the direction of Callie's gaze to see Emily Clark walking across the room. Her gown was an icy mint green, which made her own emerald eyes a brilliant color. It was cut in a halter style with a beaded v-neckline and cinched waist that hugged her curves perfectly. Her hair was pulled back in an elegant, non-structured up-do that allowed a few wavy tendrils to escape, framing her face.

"That's Emily," Frank said in a low tone.

"She's beautiful," Callie breathed.

Joe swallowed hard as he watched her cross the lobby, a bright smile on her face. _Who was she smiling for? Her date, obviously._ He watched, his gut churning, to see who it was she greeted. She stretched her hands forward, reaching for someone in a tuxedo. He saw her lean forward to hug...Brian. Brian from the home for mentally disabled adults. Joe watched as the young man, blushing furiously, tried to slip a wrist corsage on Emily. She helped him with the elastic band, then admired the flowers and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. The kid looked like he was on cloud nine.

Emily slipped her hand through his arm and led him over to a group of adults across the room. Joe felt his stomach hit the floor. Brian was her date. He momentarily closed his eyes as the enormity of what he'd done washed over him. _Feel like a moron now, you moron? _

Heather tugged on his arm. "Joe, we need to get our name tags."

As Joe turned to her, he caught Frank's eye. His brother shook his head and mouthed, "I'm sorry."

Joe let out a deep sigh. He'd blown it big time and he knew it. And, there wasn't a darn thing he could do about it now.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily glanced across the lobby and caught the Hardy brothers out of the corner of her eye. _Wow, those two can really wear a tux._ She took a deep breath. _Okay, put your eyes back in your head, Emily. Hostesses at museum parties don't have drool running down their chins when they greet the guests._

She spotted the pretty blonde hanging on Joe's arm and felt her heart contract in her chest. _He brought a date._ She watched the way the blonde touched him. Possessively. _He brought a girlfriend._ She felt tears stinging her eyes. _I'm so stupid. What on earth made me think he was interested in me? He must have a hundred girls who want to go out with him. Just in this room alone._ She mentally shook herself. _Good grief, I need to pull myself together._ _You don't want a boyfriend, remember? That's the last thing you need right now. What do you care if Joe Hardy has a girlfriend?_ _It has nothing to do with you. He's just a detective investigating Professor Ayres' murder. Nothing more._

Emily kept trying to convince herself of that as she pasted a happy smile on her face and touched Brian gently on the arm. "Joe and Frank are here. Do you mind if we go say hello to them?"

"Sure. I like them," Brian replied. "Let's go." He took Emily's hand and half dragged her across the room. "Hey, Joe!" he called out.

Joe turned around as Emily and Brian approached. He steeled himself for the impact as Brian stuck out his hand and shook Joe's vigorously. "Hey, Brian."

Brian turned to his left. "Hi, Frank," he said with a big grin.

"Hi, Brian, good to see you here." Frank gave him a friendly cuff on the shoulder.

"Guess what guys?" Brian continued. "I've got the prettiest date at the whole party." He pulled Emily forward.

"Brian, stop," Emily protested, a pink blush coloring her cheeks.

"Why? It's true."

Frank grinned. "Well, we won't argue with you there. Emily looks gorgeous."

"I'm sorry," she whispered under her breath.

"Don't be," Joe said. "We understand. And, he's right. You are definitely one of the prettiest women here tonight."

Heather gave Joe a hard nudge in the ribs.

"Uh, Emily, this is Heather. Heather Howell."

Emily nodded at her. "Nice to meet you, Heather."

Heather gave her a simpering smile. "You, too, Emily. I'm so happy to be here. Joe said this would be an amazing party and he's right."

"I hope you enjoy it. And, I hope you'll come back when the Scottish clans exhibit officially opens."

"Oh, I'm not much on museums," Heather said in a bored tone. "But I'm always up for a party."

"Well, I hope we can change your mind tonight," Emily said.

Heather shrugged and Joe looked at the floor.

"Um, Emily? I'd like you to meet Callie Shaw," Frank interrupted. "She's a good friend of mine. She works for my dad."

"Wow, I bet that's interesting," Emily said, extending her hand to Callie.

"It can be," Callie said with a smile. "Mr. Hardy has the same penchant for finding trouble as Frank and Joe."

"Hey, you can't say we don't come by it honestly," Frank protested.

"Well, I for one am really glad you do. They've been incredibly helpful around here," Emily said. "I don't know what we would have done this past week without them."

Before either Frank or Joe could respond, Brian grabbed Emily's arm excitedly. "Look, there's Duncan!"

Duncan MacLean appeared at the dais, and stood in front of a small podium with a microphone, poised to speak. Emily turned to the Hardys. "Excuse me, please. I need to go to work now. Thank you all for coming. And, very nice to meet you Heather and Callie," she called back as she hurried to the other side of the room, with Brian following her closely.

"Here," Frank said, handing Joe his nametag. "We're at table eight."

Joe sighed. "Yeah, okay."

He moved to head in that direction, Heather still clinging to his arm, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Stacey Kennedy, Emily's roommate, and her date, smiling at them.

"Joe, right?" Stacey asked.

"Yeah. Hi, Stacey, good to see you again."

She smiled. "You, too. Oh, this is my boyfriend, Eric Benson. Eric...Joe and Frank Hardy. They're the detectives helping with the museum murder case."

"Great to meet you," Eric replied, reaching out to shake their hands. "Emily was pretty shook up the other day when her office was busted into. She said you guys helped her out with that."

"Yeah," Stacey agreed. "Thanks for being there for her."

Joe had a stricken look on his face. "Wait...did you say your name was Eric?"

"Yeah, why?"

"And you're Stacey's boyfriend?"

Eric nodded. "Is that a problem?"

Joe shook his head. "No, I, I just heard Emily mention the other day that she would ask somebody named Eric to stay with her. I assumed she was talking about _her_ boyfriend."

Eric and Stacey laughed.

"No," Stacey said. "She just asked if Eric wouldn't mind spending the night on the couch for a few days, since she was so upset over everything going on here."

"Which I was more than happy to do," he interjected.

Stacey smiled. "Emily doesn't have a boyfriend, Joe. She hardly even dates. She claims she's too busy with school and work, but I think she's a little afraid...after what happened, I mean."

Joe looked puzzled. "What happened?"

Stacey looked as though she'd spoken too hastily. "Um, I'm sorry. I've said too much. Listen, we'd better get going. Nice to see you again."

She hurried off with Eric to their table at the front of the room.

"Joe, can we sit down now?" Heather asked. "I'm starving."

"Yeah, sure." Joe led her over to their table and pulled out a chair for her.

"Oooh, shrimp cocktail," she squealed as she placed her napkin on her lap.

Joe didn't reply as he searched the room for Emily. He spotted her near the dais leading an older couple to their seats._ Must be some of those wealthy patrons she was talking about_, he surmised. He felt his heart sink as he watched her talking with them and laughing. _How could I have been so stupid?_ Stacey's words echoed in his head. _She hardly even dates...I think she's a little afraid after what happened. _He sighed. _What was Stacey talking about? And how can I find out?_

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Duncan tapped on the microphone from his position at the podium. "Is this thing on? Okay, good. Well, welcome ladies and gentlemen to our semi-annual dinner to honor our wonderful patrons and to celebrate the opening of our latest exhibit, 'The Legends and Lore of old Scotland'. My name is Duncan MacLean, and I am the assistant curator here at the Bayport Art Museum. This exhibit is very near and dear to my heart, because...in case you can't tell...I'm Scottish."

He waited for the low chuckles of the audience to die down before continuing. "We would like to invite you to enjoy your meal, and then, as you can see, we have some of the artifacts from the exhibit on display here in the main lobby for you to examine at your leisure. Thank you again for coming. We appreciate your support."

Frank turned to Joe. "Looks like the cursed charmstone is one of the featured items on display tonight. I wonder whose idea that was?"

"Cursed charmstone?" Callie asked. "Sounds like there's a story there."

Frank smiled and began to relate what happened in Emily's office and the shipping room and Duncan's response as the waiters began coming around the room with green salads.

"Wow," Heather inserted. "You guys really have to put up with some weirdoes, don't you?"

"Part of the territory," Joe replied, as he smiled his thanks to a waiter.

"That would kind of get on my nerves," Heather said, spearing her lettuce with a fork.

"Speaking of getting on my nerves," Frank began. Joe kicked him in the shins roughly and Frank chuckled.

"Well, it looks like Duncan isn't taking any chances with security tonight," Joe said, changing the subject. "He's got all the guards who work here on duty."

"No kidding," Frank agreed. "I wonder if that's to help the people attending feel safer, too. Emily mentioned that quite a few regulars to this event have called and cancelled."

"You mean because of Professor Ayres?" Callie wanted to know.

Frank nodded and gestured towards the empty seats at their table. "These people aren't here. And Emily said this dinner has always been a sell out before."

"You know," Joe said thoughtfully, munching on a lettuce leaf, "maybe that's an angle we need to look at more closely."

"People wanting the museum to fail?" Frank asked.

"Yeah. What better way to do it than scare away patrons and contributors?"

"You've got a good point," Frank agreed. "Let's start checking that out tomorrow morning."

Heather pouted. "Oh, I was hoping maybe we could go skiing, Joe. There's supposed to be snow in the mountains."

"Sorry, I'm on a case," he told her. "In fact, even being here tonight is part of my job."

Heather sighed as she picked up her water glass. "What happened to you, Joe Hardy? You used to be so much fun in high school."

"He grew up?" Frank suggested, smiling when Callie shot him a warning glance.

"Well, just because you're a grown up doesn't mean you have to get all responsible," Heather huffed.

"Actually Heather, I think that's exactly what it means," Frank countered, stifling a laugh as he felt Callie's foot nudge his own.

Heather opened her mouth to say something, but stopped as the room was suddenly plunged into darkness. A confused murmur arose from the crowd that grew into pandemonium when a gunshot echoed throughout the cavernous lobby.

Joe grabbed Heather's hand and yanked her down under the table. "Stay here and don't move," he ordered.

"What? Why? What's going on? Was that a gun?" Heather's shrieking questions continued at a non-stop pace.

"Stay down, Cal," Frank said, in a low voice. "We'll be back."

Heather clutched at Joe. "Where are you going? Don't leave me, I'm scared."

"It's okay. Just stay here and be quiet."

"Heather, come here," Callie said in a low voice, taking the girl's arm and holding onto it.

Frank and Joe pushed their chairs around their dates as they huddled underneath the table. "We'll be back," Joe assured them.

"What do they think they're doing?" Heather wailed.

"Shh," Callie hissed. "It's their job. Now sit here and be quiet."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"I need to find Emily," Joe said to Frank as they tried to make their way to the front of the lobby.

Another shot splintered the air, followed almost immediately by the sound of breaking glass. Frank and Joe hit the floor and began crawling toward the dais amid the screams and shouts of frightened guests.

Joe's mind was a jumble of thoughts_. Who is doing this? What are they after? Who are they after?_ And the one thought over-riding them all..._Where is Emily?_

"Joe, we need some lights," Frank called to him over the din. "I'm going to try to make my way to the breaker. I saw the box the other day at the bottom of the basement stairs."

"I'm going to get Emily," Joe shouted back.

"Be careful," Frank warned him.

"You, too."

Joe continued in the direction of the dais, trying to listen for Emily's voice through the din around him. As he bumped into the edge of the platform, he raised himself halfway up. "Emily!" he shouted.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Frank crept slowly towards the marble stairs leading to the museum basement. He paused, listening for any sounds that might give away the location of the gunman. Not hearing anything he moved forward more rapidly until he reached the staircase. He listened again, then crouching, hurried down the stairs.

Moving his hands along the wall, he finally felt the large metal breaker box. It was open. Frank quickly began flipping the levers, hoping the lights were going on upstairs. As he reached for the last group of switches, he felt something hard strike him on the back of his head, and his world went black just as the lights came on.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **Thanks for the review, Virtute! Yeah, Joe's kind of messed things up a bit right now. Of course, at the moment...he has bigger problems. LOL Glad you liked the cliffie. Thanks again to everyone reading! :-)

Chapter 13

Joe couldn't hear Emily's voice in the pandemonium. _Damn it, where is she? Please, please don't let her be hurt. Please_. He continued moving in the direction of her table. He shouted her name again as loudly as he could, and then he heard it. An anxious call answering his.

"Joe?"

He scrambled toward the sound of her voice. "Emily, where are you?"

"Joe? Is that you?"

She sounded closer. And panicked.

"Keep talking, Em. I can't see anything."

"I'm down here."

Her voice was coming from below him. He knelt down and felt her hands grasping for him. "Joe?"

He reached out for her and pulled her into him, relief washing over him. "Thank God," he whispered. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yes. I think so."

He scooted under the nearby table, taking her with him. "Frank went to find the breaker. Hopefully the lights will be up soon."

"I-I need to try and find Brian. He was talking to Mr. Perriton, our director. This will terrify him," she said in a worried tone.

"You're not going anywhere until it's safe," he told her, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

As suddenly as the lights had gone out, they came back on again. Emily tried to scramble to her feet, but Joe held her down. "Wait a minute. I need to check things out."

He rose and looked at the absolute chaos surrounding him. Tables had been overturned, food was everywhere, people were visibly shaken. Joe couldn't tell at first if anyone had been injured. Then he saw it. Two of the glass cases had been shattered, their contents missing. And on the floor in front of one of them, lay Duncan MacLean, in a pool of his own blood.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Frank groaned as he struggled to get to a sitting position. _Where the hell am I? And, why is it so dark? _He shook his head to try and clear his mind and instantly regretted it as a bolt of pain shot through him. _What?_ He reached backwards and felt something warm and sticky in his hair. Blood. He paused, trying to remember where he was. _The museum. The fund-raising dinner._ He slowly got to his feet, ignoring the wave of nausea that overtook him_. The lights. I need to turn on the lights. No. Wait. I did turn on the lights. I flipped the breaker and then...and then I can't remember what happened. _He gingerly touched the back of his head again. _Although I think I have a pretty good idea._

He slowly moved along the cinder block wall. _I must still be in the museum._ He bumped into some bookshelves and moved around them, searching for an exit. He saw it finally, a thin sliver of light, coming from underneath a door. Frank worked his way towards it, fighting the dizziness that threatened to render him unconscious again. He reached it, finally, and grasped the metal door handle. He jumped backwards, the unexpected heat taking him by surprise. Then he smelled it. Smoke.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily gasped as she saw Duncan lying on the floor, unconscious and bleeding. "Oh, no! Joe, we need to help him." She began crawling towards him, her evening gown halting her progress as it caught between her legs.

Joe reached out to steady her. "Hang on Em, let me do it." He scooted towards Duncan and carefully lifted his right arm. He saw a burn mark clearly made by a bullet in the shoulder of his tuxedo. Joe quickly stripped

off his own tuxedo jacket and wadded it up, placing it under Duncan's shoulder and putting pressure on the wound. He looked up as Mr. Perriton, the museum director, approached him.

"Call an ambulance," Joe ordered.

"It's on its way." Mr. Perriton gazed around at the pandemonium, a look of anguish on his face. "What the hell is going on here?"

"I don't know, but you'd better get on that microphone and make an announcement," Joe directed. "Tell everyone to stay put and calm down and let them know the police will be here in a minute."

Before Mr. Perriton could reply, Mitch, the head of museum security, ran up to him. "The artifacts are missing," he said, breathing heavily. "I felt a guy run by me and I grabbed his arm, but he got away. I heard the back door open and I ran out to try and catch him, but I couldn't see anything." He paused. "Actually, I don't even know if it was the thief, I couldn't really tell, but I thought I'd better try anyway."

Mr. Perriton's shoulders sagged. "Thank you, Mitch. Please keep the patrons away from the exhibit area and don't go anywhere until you've spoken with the police."

Mitch nodded and headed toward the far wall of the room. Joe's eyes followed him and he noticed the smashed display cases with their now empty stands where the artifacts had been only moments earlier. He sighed, then turned as he heard Emily's voice.

"Is he going to be okay?" She looked down at Duncan and bit her lip.

"I hope so," he replied. "He's still breathing and his pulse is steady even if it's weak."

He watched as Emily looked around the room, her eyes coming to rest on the broken exhibit cases.

"Th-they're gone." Her eyes met Joe's, questioning. "Somebody stole the pieces for the Scottish exhibit?"

He nodded. "It looks like a sophisticated smash and grab. Whoever did it clearly knows this museum."

"B-but who? Who would do this?" She looked around the room at the shaken patrons, employees and volunteers. "And why would they want to?"

"That's what we need to figure out," Joe told her. He glanced down at the unconscious assistant museum director, then back at Emily. "And, soon."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Frank swore softly under his breath. _Fire. I'm trapped._ He paused then backed away from the door, his hands reaching around the room for something he could use to determine where he was and how he could escape. He felt along a row of what appeared to be filing cabinets. Yanking open one of the drawers, he grasped only at folders stuffed full of paper. Frank slammed it shut in frustration and moved more quickly along the row. _I need to get to a different wall. There may be another exit. _

He moved forward, hitting what appeared to be a metal desk. Reaching for the drawers, he rummaged through their contents, and excitedly grabbed onto a flashlight. _Thank goodness for small favors,_ he thought and pushed the button. A dim light came from the other end. _I guess finding extra batteries would be too much to hope for_. He turned and swept the beam around the room. _I'm pretty sure I'm still in the museum. In one of those storage rooms in the basement. _

He turned to the door he'd tried to open previously, and could clearly see the orange glow of flames in the corridor. _I've got to get out of here, fast._ He gazed around the desk. _No phone._ He moved towards the other side of the room and sighed heavily. _No other exit either. _Before he could determine his next move, the sound of shattering glass caught his attention. The large frosted window in the wooden door had exploded and flames began licking at the inside of the storage room.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

The police swarmed the building and the EMTs swarmed Duncan. Emily stepped back and surveyed the wreckage around her. She tried to steady herself with a few deep breaths while Joe talked to some of the police officers. Chief Collig was with Mr. Perriton and Mitch, and one of the other ladies who worked at the museum had Brian sitting in a chair and drinking some water. As Emily had predicted, the gunshot and the chaos had frightened him badly and they were waiting for one of his aides from the home to come and pick him up. _I need something to focus on or I'm going to lose it._ She stared down at the EMTs who were loading Duncan onto a stretcher.

"Are you his family?"

"Um, the closest thing he has to one right now, I guess."

"Okay, well then why don't you ride with us? We'll need some paperwork filled out so we can admit him."

Emily nodded dumbly. She looked up and saw Joe staring in her direction. "I'm going with him," she mouthed.

Joe looked dubious, but he nodded. He held up his fingers like he was talking on the phone. "I'll call you," he mouthed back.

Emily gave him a weak smile, picked up her evening bag and followed the gurney with Duncan on it through the main doors.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe watched as Emily left the building. _She's in shock._ He glanced around. _As soon as I find Frank, I'm headed over to the hospital. She shouldn't be alone._

"Joe!" The female voice was a panicked shriek and he cringed at the sound of it. Heather Howell flung herself into his arms. "Oh my gosh! What is going on? This is crazy. This isn't their idea of a fun night, is it? Wait, is this supposed to be one of those murder mystery dinners?"

Joe sighed. "No, it's not." He looked over her shoulder at Callie, whose eyes were wide with horror. "Listen, let me go and find Frank and then we'll get you two home, okay?"

"You're just going to take us home? But we didn't even eat dinner."

"Heather, this is a crime scene now. I'm a detective. I'm working." Joe spoke in a measured voice. "I'm going to get Frank now." He looked up. "Callie, you wait right here with her, all right?"

Callie nodded and Joe headed for the staircase. "Don't go anywhere," he called back.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Frank flashed a swath of light across the back wall of the room again. _Wait._ He moved quickly towards a large set of metal shelving and trained the flashlight behind it. _Is that a door?_ He hurriedly advanced toward the shelving and pushed aside what turned out to be several empty boxes resting on one of the shelves_. It is a door._ He touched the doorknob. _And it's not hot._ He turned it and found it pushed open easily. He slid himself onto the shelf and right through until he toppled into what appeared to be a closet_. Damn it._ He sighed and shone the light around. The wall looked odd to him. Much older than the walls in the storage room and part of it was brick. Frank began feeling what turned out to be wooden planks. His fingers caught on something metal. _A latch._ Coughing and choking as the fire starting eating up the documents in the room and burning even stronger, he tried pulling on it. It wouldn't budge.

Frustrated he slammed against it hard. He thought he felt it give a little. _Oh, please. I don't have much time. _His eyes were burning from the smoke. He threw his body against it again, but nothing happened. _Come on, come on!_ Frank backed up and began coughing furiously. _I need just a little more time. Please._ He summoned up what was left of his quickly fading strength and went at the door full force. He kicked hard with his foot, heard the wood splinter and fell through to the other side. Before he had a chance to get his bearings, he passed out.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **Thanks for your comments, Virtute! And yes, I promise I'll put up a chapter every other day until the story is finished. I know how frustrating it is to start reading a story and never have the ending, so every story I post here will be completely finished before it's "published". LOL Thanks again to all who are reading. I hope you're enjoying it.

Chapter 14

Joe quickly dashed down the basement stairs_. Where the hell is Frank? The breaker is only at the end of this hall._ He skidded around the corner and stopped short. A brick was lying in the middle of the floor. Joe bent down to examine it. Blood. His stomach churned.

Looking up, he saw two long black marks extending the length of the hallway. Joe balanced on one foot and studied one of the soles of his dress shoes. He slid the heel on the white linoleum tile, leaving the same kind of black mark. _Someone attacked him and dragged him away. _Joe quickly followed the marks down the hall._ Why is it so hazy down here?_ He sniffed. Smoke. _No, no, no! _

He rounded the corner and was met by a wall of flames that was steadily working its way up one wall, having already broken through a wooden door and into the room behind it. The room where Frank's scuff marks led. He quickly got his bearings. _Northeast corner. _He dashed back down the hall, stopping only to pull the fire alarm before he ran up the stairs and headed toward the northeast side of the building.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

_I've got to get up. _Frank blinked and shook his head. _Crap, that hurts. _The pain brought him out of his fog and he quickly remembered where he was. _Right, the fire. _He reached backwards for his flashlight which was almost out. Holding it in front of him, he staggered to his feet. _I'm in some sort of stairwell or something. It must be the one Joe and I were looking for. Now, if I can just make it out of here to tell him about it._

Frank dragged himself across the floor to where he could barely make out the edge of a stair riser. When he reached it, he groped upward for some sort of banister. Feeling a cold metal railing, he levered himself up against it to a standing position. _One foot in front of the other, Hardy._ _You need to get out before the fire catches up to you. _He heard the sound of the closet door exploding behind him. _Shit._

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe dashed up the stairwell to the third floor and flung the door open. Stepping into the reception area for the museum offices, he began looking around frantically. _According to the blueprints, the main remodel for this building was done in the northeast section so they could put more office space in. That would mean the hidden passageway has to be in the northeast section of this floor, but where? _He looked in that direction and found himself staring at the office door of the museum director, Mr. Perriton. He tried the doorknob. Locked. _Too damn bad I don't have time to look for the key. _

Joe backed up then moved forward with a well-placed kick on the bolt. _Cheap locks_, he thought as the door gave away. He entered Mr. Perriton's office and flipped on the lights. _Northeast section and it would have to be an inside wall, where a staircase could be placed. _He scanned the office and noticed that Mr. Perriton had a private restroom on that side of the room. _Bingo. _Joe headed in that direction and flung open the door. Tiled walls greeted him. _Son of a... Wait? What was that noise? __Pounding. There was pounding coming from the other side of one of the walls. _Joe turned toward the sink. It had a large mirror mounted over it as well as cabinetry and a small closet. He moved closer. _Definitely pounding._ Joe opened one of the full length cabinet doors. It held two suit jackets and not much else. The noise was coming from the back of the closet.

"Frank, is that you? It's Joe. Listen, back up. I'm going to try and smash this wall down."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Frank groaned on the other side of the drywall." Of course he's going to smash it down," he muttered. He didn't have the strength to yell back at his brother. Instead he continued hitting the already loose drywall with his flashlight. _One more corner and this panel will pop out. _Before he could get in his last hit, the drywall began crumbling and Joe stuck his hand through.

"Are you there, Frank? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me." Frank's breathing was labored." Listen, step back a minute. I almost have this whole panel out."

"There's wood in front of the drywall. It's a built-in cabinet."

"Okay, well, you take out the back of the cabinet and I'll finish this." Frank steadied himself and relied on the boost of adrenaline being rescued gave him to pop out the narrow panel of drywall between the two studs of the false wall.

On the other side, Joe quickly splintered the thin veneer that was the back of the cabinet and pulled it away. "Can you get through?"

"Um, yeah, maybe. It's really hard to breathe right now." Frank coughed. "Hang on."

Joe quickly squeezed himself through the narrow space. Worry etched his features as he surveyed his brother, his face stained with soot, slumped over, and trying to inhale.

Frank managed a smile as he looked up into his Joe's anxious face. "I guess I got some smoke in my lungs."

Joe helped him to his feet and kept his arms around his waist. "Yeah, no kidding." He shoved him through the narrow opening and Frank fell to the tile floor, relishing the coolness of it against his skin.

Joe followed behind him. "Come on, bro. We've got to get you to the hospital."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe left the museum in the ambulance with Frank after finding Callie and Heather in the parking lot watching the Bayport Fire Department get the blaze under control. He handed Callie the van keys and told her to meet him at Bayport General.

Now, an hour later, he stepped off the elevator onto the fourth floor, where the ER doctor told him Frank would be sent for overnight observation. He saw Emily seated in the far corner of the waiting room, her head bent and her arms wrapped around her middle like she was trying to keep herself from breaking apart. Her hair was coming loose from its up-do and she was unconsciously rocking back and forth. His chest constricted at how alone and vulnerable she looked. He crossed the room quickly and knelt down in front of her.

"Hey," he said quietly, touching her arm.

She startled and jumped back.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." Joe's face had a concerned expression on it.

She shook her head. "It's not your fault. I guess I'm a little jumpy."

He took the seat next to her. "That's understandable. How's Duncan?"

"Um, he's supposed to be coming out of surgery in a little while. They had to remove the bullet." She sighed. "They think he'll be okay, although he lost a lot of blood."

Joe nodded. "That's good."

"Are you here to check on him?"

"No, actually, Frank's here...as a patient."

"What?" Emily was confused. "Why? What happened?"

"Remember when I told you Frank went downstairs to flip the breaker and turn on the lights?"

She nodded.

"Well, apparently someone conked him on the back of his head, locked him in one of the downstairs rooms in the museum, and then set a fire to try and kill him."

Emily's mouth opened and closed with no sound coming out. Her eyes were wide with astonishment. "Is he okay?"

"He will be. He managed to find a closet with a staircase behind it that had been walled over during the museum remodel and dragged himself up to the third floor. I found him as he was breaking through a floor to ceiling cabinet in Mr. Perriton's office. He has some smoke inhalation problems and a mild concussion, so they want to observe him for twenty-four hours before they let him go home." Joe leaned back in his chair. "Is the annual museum fund-raiser always this much fun?"

Her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Joe, I wish I knew what was going on. I can't even come up with a remotely good explanation for all the violence."

He quickly moved forward and put his arm around her shoulders as the tears trickled down her cheeks. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you more upset."

She touched his hand reassuringly. "You didn't. I've just been sitting here trying to figure it all out. This all seems to have something to do with the Scottish clans exhibit, but I don't understand at all." She looked up at Joe, her eyes watery. "The artifacts are valuable, but we have so many other pieces at the museum that are worth much more. And there's certainly nothing in that collection that's worth someone's life."

"So, you're saying most art theft is done for monetary reasons?"

"Virtually all art theft is done for monetary reasons. But no one is bothering our Rembrandt or our Monet." She shook her head. "It doesn't make sense."

"Well, Duncan seems to think it all has to do with some ancient Scottish curse and those damned charmstones."

Emily sighed. "I don't believe in that sort of thing, but right now it seems to be the only viable explanation." She laughed. "What does that say about this whole mess?"

"That I need to work harder," he replied grimly.

"There you are!" Heather Howell stepped off the elevator and headed toward Joe, followed by a worried looking Callie.

"Is Frank–" Callie began.

"Frank's fine," Joe reassured her as he stood and faced the girls. "They just want to keep him here overnight for observation."

Callie let out a visible sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. I didn't want to call your father until I knew for sure."

"Don't worry about that. I've already spoken with Dad. He's coming home from DC tomorrow anyway," Joe said.

Callie nodded. "How's the guy who got shot?" She looked past Joe at Emily.

"He's going to be fine, too," Joe said.

"He should be out of surgery any minute now," Emily spoke up.

Even before she finished her sentence, a doctor stepped into the waiting room, pulling a surgical mask from his face. "Are you here for Duncan MacLean?"

Emily raised her hand. "I am."

"Then I'm happy to tell you he's resting comfortably. The surgery went well and we expect him to make a complete recovery."

"Can I see him?" she asked.

"He's pretty heavily sedated right now and he hasn't been moved to his room yet." The surgeon gave her a warm smile. "It might be best if you get some rest and come back in the morning. He'll be awake and alert then."

Emily nodded. "Thank you. Maybe that would be best. I am pretty tired."

The surgeon shook her hand and moved away as a nurse leaned over from the reception desk. "Mr. Hardy? Your brother has been moved to his room now. You can go see him if you'd like. Room four-twenty-three."

"Thank you. Can my friends come?"

The nurse smiled. "As long as you're quiet and don't stay too long."

"Don't you want to go in alone first?" Callie asked.

"I think Frank will want to see all of us. He'll want to know you're okay, Cal." Joe turned. "Emily? Will you come, too?"

She hesitated, catching the subtle flash of annoyance in Heather's eyes. "Um, no. I don't want to intrude. Please tell Frank I'm so sorry about what happened tonight and I hope he feels better soon."

"Are you sure?"

Emily glanced at Heather, who had crossed her arms in front of her and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure. I'll see you later."

Joe lingered for a moment as Emily turned and began to walk away.

"Are you coming, Joe?" Heather asked.

"Yeah, of course." Joe followed the girls down the hall, while Emily picked up her evening bag from the chair where she'd been sitting in the waiting room.

OOOOOoooooOOOOOO

_Stupid, stupid, stupid. _Emily tried furiously to blink back the hot tears that kept threatening to spill over onto her cheeks. _Every single time I spend more than five minutes with Joe I turn into a sobbing idiot. _She turned and walked out of the waiting room and paused to lean against a wall while she searched her purse for her car keys. She sighed in frustration. Her car wasn't in the parking lot. She'd arrived at the hospital in the ambulance with Duncan.

Emily fished a coin out of her purse and headed toward a payphone on a nearby wall and dialed her home number. No answer. Pushing down the button to release the coin, she re-deposited it and dialed the museum. Again, no answer. _Obviously this just isn't my night. _

She turned back to the waiting room and into the hallway where she knew Joe had gone. Heather's face flashed into her mind. _No, I can't do that. She'll misunderstand. Or she'll see how much I'm trying to hide my feelings for Joe. And then I'll look even more pathetic than I already do. _She stared down at her strappy high heels that perfectly matched her evening gown. Her expensive strappy heels, meant to dance around a ballroom once or twice, not walk the three miles between the hospital and her house. Emily sighed again and headed down the hall with the song "These Boots are Made for Walking" going through her head as she teetered on her three inch heels into the waiting elevator car.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe knocked softly on Frank's hospital room door and peeked his head around. "Hey, are you decent? I have two women pounding down the door behind me to try and get to you."

Frank gave him a weak smile from his bed. "Send them this way. I could go for a hug right about now."

Callie pushed by Joe and hurried to Frank's side. "Are you okay? You scared us to death."

"Sorry," Frank said weakly as he welcomed her warm embrace. "And yeah, I'm fine."

Joe surveyed the oxygen tube under his nose and the IV in his arm. "You sure? Cause you look like crap."

Frank chuckled, then coughed. "I'm sure. Just a little smoke in my lungs. Doctor says I'll be ready to leave in the morning though."

Callie sighed with relief. "That's good to hear."

"Hey, what went on upstairs anyway?" Frank wanted to know. "Fill me in."

Joe pulled up a chair next to his brother's bed, turned it around and straddled it. He proceeded to tell Frank everything that had transpired on the main floor of the museum while Frank was trying to make his escape from the basement and ended with, "Duncan just got out of surgery about fifteen minutes ago."

Frank whistled low. "He's a lucky guy."

"No kidding, but unfortunately all the items for the exhibit were stolen." Joe leaned back. "I think I'd better get the girls home and then maybe call Collig and see what he's learned."

"I'll save you the dime." Frank's hospital door swung open wide as Chief Collig stepped through. He looked at Frank. "Are you up to giving me a statement?"

Frank reached for the water glass next to his bed and took a sip. "Sure."

Collig nodded and looked pointedly at Joe. "Can you get the civilians out of here?"

Heather crossed her arms indignantly. "Hey, I am not a civilian."

Collig gave her a hard stare. "Well you're not on my force, sweet stuff, so that makes you a civilian."

Frank bent his head and stifled a laugh at Heather's expression. He glanced at Joe who rolled his eyes.

"Um, Heather? Why don't I take you and Callie home? It's been a long evening and I have a feeling I've got some work to do yet."

Collig nodded. "Damn straight you do."

Heather huffed as she walked by Collig. "You're rude," she said, as she exited the room followed by a smiling Callie and a sheepish Joe.

"Your brother knows how to pick 'em, doesn't he?"

Frank grinned. "She was a last minute replacement, because he couldn't ask the girl he really wanted to go with."

Collig nodded. "Gives me hope." He grabbed the chair Joe had been sitting in and faced it forward before taking a seat. "Okay, now I need to know everything that happened tonight from your perspective."


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **Thanks for the lovely comments, Virtute, "Anonymous" and Leya! I love reading them. And, if everyone's summer is as crazy busy as mine, I understand why people don't have time to comment. I'm just happy if I can squeeze in time to read some stories here. Of course, I love feedback, so other readers...feel free to chime in. LOL This chapter is a bit shorter than the others, so it'll be a quick read today. Heather was a fun character to write...and she's actually based on someone I knew in college. Shhh...;-) Thanks for reading everyone!

Chapter 14

After dropping Callie off at her house, Joe pulled up in front of Heather's dormitory. He got out and jogged around to her side of the car to open her door and help her out. As he walked her up to the main door, she paused and turned to him.

"Can you come inside for a drink? My roommate is away for the weekend." Her eyes were seductive and Joe knew exactly what her invitation included...and it went way beyond a drink.

He smiled at her. "I'm sorry. I really can't. Not tonight."

She pouted. "Why not? Surely that mean old police guy can't really make you work on a Friday night?"

"Yeah, actually he can," Joe said with a grin. "Besides, it's what I do. It's what I love."

Heather sidled up to him and pressed her body flush against his as she slowly slid her arms around his neck. "Do you love it more than me?" She placed her lips just below his ear and kissed him gently. "Remember how good it was between us?"

Joe reached back and took her hands, moving them as he stepped backwards. "I remember, Heather." He smiled. "It was good. But, that was then, not now."

"It can be now," she whispered. "It can be right now."

He shook his head. "No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to mislead you or anything. I really hoped we could be good friends."

She laughed. "Friends? That's all you want, Joe? Friendship? Are you kidding me?"

"No, I'm not."

Her eyes narrowed. "There's someone else."

Joe didn't say anything.

"Why did you ask me out?"

"I just thought you might enjoy the banquet. We haven't seen each other in a long time. I thought it would fun."

She laughed. "You thought it would be fun. For us to be friends."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Who is she?"

He didn't say anything.

Heather nodded. "Never mind. I already know. It's that girl from the museum. The one who was at the hospital tonight. Erica or whatever her name is."

"Her name is Emily."

Heather snorted and pulled open the door to her dorm. "Whatever. Listen, Joe, do me a favor? When you want to make another girl jealous, use someone else to do it, okay?"

His eyes widened. "I wasn't trying to use you. Honest."

She let go of the door and turned back to him. "You know, I admit, I'm not smart about a lot of things in life, but there is one thing I am smart about. Men. And whether you want to think so or not, you were using me to get back at Erin."

"Emily. And I didn't do it on purpose, Heather. You've got to believe me."

She stared at him silently for a moment. "I believe you." She opened the door again. "I don't know what's holding you back. She's got feelings for you. They're written all over her face."

Joe looked up at Heather, startled.

"Yeah. She does. Have a nice life, Joe. Thanks for the...interesting...evening." She disappeared inside her dorm and let the door slam behind her before he could get in another word.

Joe sighed heavily as he walked down the stairs and back to the van. He slammed his hand against the door before he opened it._ How in the hell did this evening turn into such a nightmare?_

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"So, you didn't see or hear anyone before you were hit on the head?" Collig asked Frank as he scribbled in his notebook.

"No." Frank took another sip of water. "Nothing. I flipped the breaker switch for the lights and that's all I remember until I woke up in that file room or whatever it was."

Collig paused and surveyed Frank. "Someone had to drag you there. How much do you weigh?"

"About one-ninety or so." He grinned. "Depends on how much dessert Aunt Gertrude has made during the week."

"Okay, so you're about six-one, six-two, one hundred ninety pounds, dead weight." Collig shook his head. "Had to be someone fairly strong. The file room isn't that close to the breaker."

"I guess that means Emily is officially off your suspect list, huh?" he said with a grin.

Collig snorted. "She was never on it. Pretty obvious your brother is interested in her, so I just questioned her the other day to get a rise out of him." He grabbed the extra glass on Frank's table and poured some water for himself. "Well, and to ask if she knew anything. But she was never a suspect."

"So who is?"

Collig shook his head. "I don't have anything concrete enough to name names. We're still missing too many facts on the Ayres murder. Nothing to determine motive at all."

"You do think everything that's been happening at the museum is related though, don't you?"

Collig tapped his pen on his notepad. "Yeah, just don't know how."

Frank leaned back against his pillow. "Then that's the million dollar question."

"We figure out motive, I think we get all the answers." Collig sighed. "I'm not looking forward to the publicity this robbery and fire is going to get for the department." He stared at Frank. "I need you and your brother to step up your efforts on this case. Go where we can't go."

Collig pointed his finger at Frank. "Where people will clam up if an officer shows his face, I want you and Joe there asking questions. I'm going to give you two a lot of leeway with this. Just don't do anything I can't overlook. Otherwise, you have free rein and my permission to do what you need to in order to solve this."

"You might want to repeat that to my brother. I'm sure he'd like to hear it straight from you."

Collig shook his head. "I don't need to see the smirk on his face in person. You tell him for me." He stood up. "You'd better get some rest. I need you back on the job in the morning."

"Will do."

"And, listen. Someone obviously tried to kill you tonight, so I'm leaving an officer outside your room." Collig moved to the door. "If anything happened to you...your father would kill _me_."

"I'm overwhelmed by your concern," Frank chuckled.

Collig waved his hand and smiled as he opened the door. "Save it, Hardy. Just watch yourself, okay?"


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, Virtute and Leya! I'm glad you like Collig. He's so fun to write! And yes, Heather isn't quite as dumb as she looks. She picked up on what Joe and Emily are missing. LOL And I'm sure she'll make someone a lovely trophy wife someday. Just not Joe. ;-) Also, apologies to the readers for the chapter heading typo on the last installment. It was indeed chapter 15 even though it said 14. Hope that wasn't too confusing. Anyway, on with the mystery! Thanks for reading!

Chapter 16

Joe groaned as the sunlight streamed through his window the next morning and came to rest on his pillow. He reached blindly toward his nightstand for his clock, finally closed his hand around it and lifted it to his face. He cracked open one eye. _Eight-sixteen._ _Crap. I've got to get down to the hospital and get Frank. He's going to be ticked I'm not there already._

He sighed and pushing his covers aside, hauled himself up and into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and stripped off his boxers_. Today had better be a hell of lot better than yesterday or I'm finished with detective work and changing my major to accounting._

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Frank was finishing his hospital breakfast of runny eggs and dried out sausage when he heard a soft knocking on his door. "Come in."

Emily slipped inside and smiled at him. "You're awake."

"Yeah, they tend not to let you sleep too much around here."

"I'm sorry," she said, moving toward his bed. "Are you feeling okay?"

Frank noticed the anxious look in green eyes and smiled. "I'm fine. How's Duncan?"

"He's doing better." She sat down in the chair next to the bed. "He's still kind of doped up, but the doctor who came in to check him this morning said he thought he could be released in two or three days."

"Wow, that's great."

"Yeah, they're examining him now, so I thought I'd come see how you were. I feel terrible about what happened."

Frank chuckled as he tried to boost himself up and banged his knees against his breakfast tray. "It's not your fault."

"No, but I invited you and Joe to the banquet." Emily stood and moved the rolling tray table away from the bed. She lifted his pillows so he could sit up more fully. "I feel responsible."

"Well, you're not." Frank smiled. "I'm just glad we could be there to help. And really, I'm okay. I'm leaving as soon as Joe arrives and the doctor releases me."

"That's good." She handed him his orange juice from his tray. "Here, finish this. It's good for you."

Frank grinned at her as he took it. "So, when are you going to let my brother ask you out?"

She seemed startled. "What? Joe doesn't want to ask me out. He already has a girlfriend."

Before Frank could answer, the door flew open and Joe, freshly showered and wearing jeans and waffle-knit, long sleeved t-shirt, bounced in. "Morning, bro!" He stopped short when he saw Emily. "I didn't know you were here."

"I was visiting Duncan, and thought I'd better see how your brother was feeling, too." 

Her smile was warm and open and Joe lost his train of thought for a moment as her surveyed her. Her hair was long and loose around her shoulders and she had on yet another pair of body-hugging jeans, this time paired with a tailored shirt.

"Um, how's Duncan? Does he remember anything about last night?" Joe finally managed to get out.

Emily's eyes clouded. "Not really. He said he could hear the glass in the display cases being broken and he ran over there hoping to stop the guy. He got shot instead."

"Swell...another dead end." Joe walked over to his brother and paused near the edge of the bed next to Emily. Her clean, floral scent reached him and he had to restrain himself from putting his arms around her and pulling her into him. Instead he looked down at Frank who was staring up at him with an amused expression on his face. "You ready to go?"

"Just waiting for the doctor's okay. Oh, and when we're done, Collig wants us to head over to the museum. Although I think I want to head home first. All I have is the tux I wore here last night."

Joe held up a plastic bag he'd been carrying. "Never fear. I have your clothes. No sense losing all the money we put down on renting those penguin suits. Mine has a huge blood stain on it from Duncan's sucking chest wound, but I thought we could at least recover the cost of yours."

Frank grinned. "Well, since mine is smoky and possibly torn in a place or two, I've definitely lost the cleaning deposit, but maybe I won't have to pay to replace it." He reached for the bag and peered inside. "Thanks."

"No problem. I still live by that old Boy Scout motto...be prepared."

Frank rolled his eyes and Emily giggled.

"I could have used some Boy Scout training last night. I wasn't prepared at all. I forgot I rode here in the ambulance. I ended up having to walk home." She looked at Frank. "I'll bet my high heels look worse than your tux."

Joe touched her arm. "You walked home?"

Emily looked sheepish. "Yeah, it wasn't bad though. But like I said, it ruined my shoes. Probably took me a little longer than it normally would have, too."

"You walked home? After everything that's been going on? After what happened at the museum last night, after someone vandalized your office and your locker and left you pink roses as some sort of sick message, you walked home? Late at night? Alone?" Joe's voice rose and anger flashed in his eyes. Emily took a step backwards.

"Joe," Frank warned.

"Why on earth didn't you come back and get me, Emily? I would have driven you home."

"Y-you were on a date. And your brother was hurt. I didn't want to interfere. It wasn't a big deal."

"It wasn't a big deal?" Joe took a deep breath. "Do you have any idea what could have happened to you? Even if there wasn't some psycho on the loose, it's stupid for you to walk alone that late at night. You should've known that."

Tears filled Emily's eyes. She turned quickly and grabbed her purse. "I need to go," she whispered. "I hope you feel better, Frank." She hurried to the door and opened it as Joe ran toward her.

"Emily, wait!"

She flew down the hall and around the corner as fast as she could. Spying a linen closet, she stepped inside and shut the door behind her. The tears began to flow and Emily felt sobs welling up from deep within her. All of the stress of the past week bubbled up and out of her body as she grabbed a towel and cried into it, unable to stop or control the flood of emotions that overwhelmed her.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"She disappeared," Joe said, slamming his fist against Frank's door.

"What the hell was that?" Frank swung his feet over the side of the bed. "I thought you liked her."

"I do." He shook his head. "She walked home. At midnight. Alone. With a nutcase on the loose." He struck the metal railing of his brother's bed. "Do you know what could have happened to her?" He clenched his jaw. "I can't even think about it. It scares the hell out of me."

"Yeah, well that's what you just did to her." Frank stood up. "You made her cry. Way to go." He reached in his bag and pulled out his clothes. "If that's your technique for getting a date, no wonder you're striking out."

Joe scrubbed his hand over his face. "I don't know. She makes me crazy. I feel too much when I'm around her. I don't know how to explain it."

Frank paused as he pulled on his jeans. "I think you'd better go find her and straighten this out. We have a case to solve and this thing you have for Emily is distracting you."

"This case is _about_ Emily."

"Yeah, and you can't think of anything else except her." Frank reached for his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. "Do us both a favor. Ask her out. Kiss her. Whatever it takes so you can focus on what we need to do, okay?"

"Yeah." Joe headed for the door. "Hey, don't go anywhere."

Frank rolled his eyes.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe mentally kicked himself as he headed down the corridor in search of Emily. _I'm such an ass._ Her liquid green eyes staring up at him filled his mind as he went around the corner_. Frank's right. I scared her. I yelled at her. She isn't going to want to have anything to do with me now, that's for sure._ He walked past several closed doors and paused. He took a few steps backwards. _What was that noise?_ He leaned his ear against the door of a supply closet. _Sounds like crying. _

A sinking feeling filled Joe's heart as he slowly turned the doorknob. Emily. Sobbing. The sound of it about killed him. He closed his eyes and sighed. _I'm not just an ordinary ass, I'm the biggest ass on the planet._ He stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind him. He reached out and touched her shoulder gently. "Emily?"

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

She jumped and turned around, startled. Seeing it was Joe, she began moving toward the door. He stepped in front of it and stopped her. "No. Please. Stay here."

She shook her head.

"Emily, please." Joe hung his head and stared at the floor. "Please."

She paused.

He reached out and took her hand. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it."

"It's okay," she said flatly as she tried to move past him. "Um, I need to go and see if Duncan is awake."

Joe held her hand tightly. "It's not okay." He sighed. "I'm a jerk. I talk before I think, and say things I don't mean to say. Can you forgive me?"

She looked up at him and felt herself melting at the concern she saw in his eyes. She took a deep breath, hoping her voice wouldn't shake as she spoke. "There's nothing to forgive. You were absolutely right. Walking home on my own was stupid. I should have called a cab."

"No, you should have gotten me." He stepped closer to her. "Why won't you let me help you? Why do you keep pushing me away?"

She bit her lip and turned her head to stare at the opposite wall, while that feeling of lightheadedness she always had when she was next to him, washed over her. "Joe, I wasn't about to interrupt your evening with your girlfriend and ask you for a ride home, okay? Three's a crowd and all."

"My girlfriend?" He looked baffled. "Where on earth did you get the idea that Heather was my girlfriend?"

_Oh, maybe it was the fact that she was stuck to you like a bottle of Superglue. Maybe the "he's mine" look she had in her eyes all evening. Or, it could have been the repeated evil stares she kept shooting in my direction...all screaming, "Stay away from my boyfriend". _"Um, I don't know. You two just looked like a couple."

He furrowed his brow. "Well, we're not. I only asked Heather to the banquet because I was told the girl I really wanted to ask already had a date."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." Emily wiped the lingering tears out of her eyes and tried hard not to sniffle. Or snort. She held the towel she'd been sobbing into up to her nose, doubting it looked as delicate as she would have liked. A bath towel really just couldn't pull off looking like a lace handkerchief. "Maybe she'll be able to go out with you another time."

Joe gave her an odd smile. "Yeah, I hope so. I was really disappointed I couldn't take her to the banquet."

Emily lowered the towel from her face and tried to look dignified. _I can't believe he's standing here telling me how much he wants to go out with some other girl. Frank is nuts. Joe isn't interested in me at all. _"Well, it was probably for the best. After what happened in the museum last night, it wouldn't exactly have made for a wonderful evening."

Joe seemed confused and Emily took advantage of it to pull her hand away from his. His strong hand. With the grip that made her feel safe. Like he was in charge and would take care of everything. _Oh my gosh, now I'm daydreaming about his hand, for crying out loud. I need to get some caffeine or something. _

"Listen Joe, I really do have to get going. I need to ask Duncan what he wants me to do while he's out of commission, and I have to get over to the museum and see about filing insurance reports on the stolen artifacts." She moved towards the door. "I'm sorry again about everything that happened last night. Thank you for being there and for wanting to help. You really were terrific."

"Okaaaay," Joe said. "Um, and I'm sorry about what I said earlier. Truly."

She gave him a little smile. "It's all right. Honest. And, I, uh, hope everything works out with the girl you want to go out with."

Joe smiled at her. "I hope it will, too. Once she figures out how much I like her."

Emily laughed. "How could she not know that?" She dropped her towel into the canvas laundry hamper and opened the door.

"I don't know. But for some reason, no matter what I do or say, she doesn't seem to get it."

"Maybe you'd better look for someone else, then. She doesn't sound all that smart to me." Emily adjusted her purse over her shoulder.

"She's very smart. Smarter than any girl I've ever met," he said with a smile. "I just think she underestimates herself. She doesn't realize how amazing she is. How beautiful. How kind and sweet."

Emily gritted her teeth as she interrupted him. "Well, what are you waiting for? She sounds perfect." She stepped outside. "See you later." She let the door to the linen closet close behind her and then jogged towards the women's restroom before the tears that were threatening behind her eyes started flowing down her cheeks again.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

After being given a clean bill of health by the doctor, Frank and Joe headed straight for the Bayport Art Museum. Joe gave a low whistle as he slipped under the crime scene tape and through the museum's main entrance. "Wow, what a mess."

"No kidding." Frank surveyed the room. Tables and chairs were overturned, food was on the floor, glass was still everywhere and it looked like the entire Bayport police force was collecting evidence, taking photos or standing around keeping guard.

Joe hit his brother on the arm. "I want to go down to the basement. We need to check out that passageway to the third floor."

"You sure you don't want to examine things here first?"

"Not with these guys hanging around." Joe gestured to the uniformed officers. "Besides, they've already taken most of this apart. Looks like they're ready to begin the cleanup anyway."

Frank nodded as they both moved towards the stairwell. "After you."

They moved quickly down the stairs and around the corner, where Joe skidded to a halt. Frank slammed into the back of him. "What are you doing?"

Joe pointed to the team of fire investigators crowding the corridor. "More men in blue."

"Crap," Frank muttered. He pulled his brother back. "Wait a minute. These guys are only investigating the fire, not the passageway. They just see that as my escape route."

"Yeah, so?"

"So, let's start at the other end of the staircase."

"Perriton's office?"

"Yep."

"Age before beauty," Joe said with a grin as he followed Frank towards the elevator.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily sighed as the insurance company put her on hold yet again. She shifted nervously as Chief Collig entered the conference room she was using and made his way toward her.

"I need your statement from last night."

She put her hand over the receiver. "Can I do it after I'm finished talking with the insurance company?"

He nodded briefly. "Just don't go home without talking to one of my men. Oh, and I'll need a detailed description on the stolen items as well. And, when's your boss coming back to work?"

"Um, he gets released from the hospital in a couple of days, I think."

Collig sighed and walked out of the office without another word.

Emily frowned. _Is that man ever in a good mood?_

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Frank and Joe got off the elevator on the third floor and entered the reception area for the museum's administrative offices.

"This place is like a tomb," Joe commented.

"Well, I guess with the museum being closed and the police barricade downstairs, not too many people are getting by."

"What about Perriton?" Joe moved across the reception area with his brother right behind him.

"I thought I saw him in the lobby." Frank reached for the door handle to Perriton's office, then turned and raised his eyebrows at Joe.

"Hey, I didn't have time to waste looking for a key last night."

Frank grinned as he touched the broken doorknob. It fell to the floor with clatter. "Not a very sturdy dead bolt." He touched the splintered wood as he walked inside. "Not a very sturdy doorframe either."

They both moved quickly over to Perriton's private restroom and slipped inside.

"I don't think Collig will be up here anytime soon, since it's not the actual crime scene," Frank said, "but let's keep it down."

Joe patted his pocket. "That's what these badges are for, bro. They allow us to snoop around legally."

They walked into the rest room and approached the tall closet that covered the entrance to the old staircase and began examining it. Joe walked through to the other side to start his investigation from that angle. As he moved along, checking out the drywall, Frank called to him softly.

"Yeah?" Joe reappeared at the back side of the closet.

"Look." Frank gestured to a small latch on the vanity. "We missed this last night." He pulled it and heard a clicking noise. Joe saw a mechanism pop out on the other side near the place where Frank had removed the drywall.

"That would have opened it." Joe ran his fingers up and down the panel. "The back of the closet slid to one side and this drywall was hinged."

"Yep, you smashed it down for nothing," Frank said with a grin.

"I didn't exactly think I had time to be looking for hidden switches," Joe remarked dryly. "Not with you sounding like you were at death's door."

Frank clapped him on the shoulder. "And I appreciate that. I just like giving you a hard time."

"So what do you think this means?" Joe didn't want to turn the subject to Frank's close call and the desperation he felt trying to reach him. Too much emotion for so early in the morning.

Frank sighed. "I think it means we need to look at Mr. Perriton a little more closely."

Joe leaned his hand against the drywall in frustration. "You know, that's the problem with this whole case. All we're doing is 'looking at people more closely'. When are we going to get some real evidence? Everything right now is circumstantial."

"I don't know." Frank shook his head. "But why don't we go talk to Perriton? If he's guilty, maybe we'll be able to at least pick up on something that will give us a good lead. If he's not, maybe he can point us in the right direction."

"Well, finding out who knew about this little trap door might be a good place to start."

"Definitely."


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **Thanks for the comments, Leya and Virtute! I love hearing what you have to say. And yes, Emily's a bit stressed out with everything that's happened, so she's kind of missing the obvious. LOL Maybe someone will help her to see the light soon. Thanks again to all who are reading!

Chapter 17

"See anything in the police reports?" Joe asked his brother later that morning in the museum lobby.

Frank stood at the main desk, reading over what Collig had collected so far from the patrons and the staff. "It's pretty much everything you described. Lights went out, panic, nobody could see anything, then glass breaking and gunshots."

Joe sighed. "So why do you think museum security dropped the ball on this one?"

"They're amateurs." Frank looked up. "They're in way over their heads. I mean, they have a fairly antiquated security system, they're not allowed to carry firearms, except for Mitch, and they have no budget."

"Yeah, I guess the university figured the Bayport Art Museum was low on the list of possible targets for violent crime."

"You know what's bugging me? Emily said there are more valuable items in the museum's collection than the Scottish artifacts. Much more valuable items." Frank leaned against the chair. "That's a huge clue right there. If these guys were truly art thieves, then why not take the art worth the most money? The museum was pitch black, they could have easily snatched the Rembrandt or the Monet. Not to mention some of the other paintings or sculptures."

"So you're saying the perps aren't art thieves?"

"Not in the traditional sense of the word." Frank began pacing back and forth. "Think about it. If they were truly after this stuff to resell it on the black market, why just take a Scottish dirk, an ox horn and a few other trinkets and baubles? Why not go for paintings worth multiple millions of dollars? That doesn't even make sense."

"So we're back to motive?" Joe leaned against the reception desk. "The motive for this crime clearly wasn't money."

"No." Frank sighed. "And, like Collig said to me earlier, until we figure out the motive, we're going to be hitting a lot of dead ends."

"Besides finding Perriton, I want to watch the surveillance video taken last night. There's got to be some sort of clue on that."

Frank nodded. "I'm sure Collig's already confiscated it. Maybe we can have a look at it down at the station."

Joe glanced up as he saw Emily enter the room, approach Chief Collig and hand him some papers. "She looks completely exhausted," he said to Frank.

"Yeah, I'm sure this isn't what she expected when she signed up for an internship here."

Joe smiled at her as she approached them and she gave him a faint smile in return.

"I'm sorry, I need to get a phone number from that Rolodex," she said to Frank who was standing in the way.

"Oh, sure." He stepped aside. "How's it going?"

She sighed. "I've spent all my time with the insurance company and I'm not done yet. Unfortunately, Evan put the witch box and the charmstone on display last night with the other items, and now they're missing. We haven't even been able to verify they were sent to us officially and now they've been stolen."

"So no one in Edinburgh put those in the crate with the claymore?" Joe wanted to know.

"No one has admitted it so far and no paper work has turned up on either end."

Emily bit her lip and Joe found himself transfixed, imagining what it would feel like to kiss her.

"So, not only do we have an artifact that isn't ours; we now have a missing artifact that isn't ours," she concluded.

"Sounds like a bureaucratic nightmare," Frank commented.

"Exactly. And, I don't really feel equipped to deal with it. I just don't know enough."

"Can't Evan help you?" Joe asked, moving closer to her.

Emily shook her head. "He's a mess. He doesn't handle this sort of thing well at all. And, Mr. Perriton is too busy with the police and the university. Not to mention all of the patrons who've been phoning. We're trying to get some of the staff to deal with those calls, but Mr. Perriton has had to speak to the more important donors himself."

She looked up at Joe and he felt himself getting lost in her eyes._ A guy could drown in those._

"He's really worried that people are going to start pulling their donations. Especially after last night. To say that some of those people were shaken up is an understatement."

"Yeah, I can't imagine that crowd likes having to dive for cover while being shot at," Frank remarked.

"No," she sighed. "Some of them are even threatening lawsuits. Especially the ones who donated the money to hold the gala in the first place. It's hard enough to get support for the arts even under the best of circumstances, and now this."

Joe thought Emily sounded completely defeated. He could see her trembling as she looked at the destruction everywhere, her gaze flitting from the broken glass, to the overturned tables, and finally stopping to rest on the large smear of blood on the marble floor where Duncan had lain the night before.

Joe knew she'd reached her limit and that her brain and body were starting to rebel against the stress of the past week. "Come on," he said, gently taking her arm. "You don't have to do this now. Let's take a break. Have you eaten anything lately?"

She looked up at him, a confused expression on her face.

"Emily, did you have breakfast?"

She shook her head as she leaned over and reached for the Rolodex. "No, I didn't have time. I had to get to the hospital."

Joe took the Rolodex out of her hand and set it back on the desk.

"I need that, Joe. I have to get a number for Chief Collig."

"You have to eat something. Preferably something hot. An actual meal."

"No, I can't leave now. I have to help clean up." She gestured wildly. "This place is a mess–"

Joe took both of her hands in his and looked directly into her eyes. "We'll come back later. I promise." His voice was soft, but its authoritative tone made his decision final.

Emily nodded mutely and her shoulders slumped. Joe knew she was broken, tired, and fragile and he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms, and promise her over and over again that he would make everything okay.

Instead he pressed his hand against the small of her back and guided her gently toward the museum entrance. He looked back at his brother, who nodded, picked up the Rolodex and headed toward Chief Collig.

OOOOOoooooOOOO

Joe took Emily to a popular diner just off campus. The waitress seated them quickly in a booth.

"The usual, Joe?"

He laughed. "You know me too well, Connie." He raised his eyebrows at Emily and asked, "Is it okay if I order for both of us?"

She nodded mutely and as he placed the order, the waitress set down glasses of water. "Coming right up," she said with a wink for Joe as she walked toward the kitchen.

Joe smiled at her then turned back to Emily. He watched as she stared absentmindedly at her water glass and his brow furrowed. "Hey, are you okay?"

She looked up and gave him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I'm not very good company at the moment."

"Don't worry about that. I just want to make sure you're all right."

"I'll be fine," she assured him. "My mind is just going a hundred miles an hour trying to make sense of all this. I can't seem to relax."

"That's normal. But it doesn't mean you can stop eating."

"I guess I just haven't had much of an appetite," she said with a sigh.

Joe spotted the waitress heading toward them and grinned at Emily. "Well, you'd better find it soon, because you're going to need it for your breakfast."

Emily's eyes widened as the waitress set a large plate filled with pancakes topped with strawberries and whipped cream in front of her. She continued setting down plates of eggs, hash browns, sausage, toast and juice until Emily could barely see the Formica table underneath.

"Can I get you two anything else?"

Joe smiled. "No, I think we're good."

She nodded and stepped away and Emily stared over at him. "How many people are joining us for this breakfast?"

"Just us." He reached for the ketchup bottle.

"Joe, there is no way I can even eat a quarter of this."

He gestured towards her plate of pancakes with his fork. "I want that plate clean. You need the food. I know for a fact you didn't eat dinner last night and you told me yourself you skipped breakfast this morning."

"But..." she protested.

"Don't argue with me. Eat." He grinned at her and stuck his fork into a strawberry covered in whipped cream that was resting atop her pancakes. He held out the fork and leaned towards her. "Open up."

"Joe."

"Here comes the airplane." He twirled the fork in front of her face and Emily laughed out loud. He took advantage of it and slipped the strawberry into her mouth. Her eyes widened as the cream covered her lips. She licked them clean with her tongue and Joe felt dizzy as he watched.

She smiled at him. "That was really good."

"Yes, it was." He raised his eyebrows at her and she blushed.

Reaching for her own fork, she bent her head and focused on the pancakes. After a moment, she said, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being so nice." She took another bite of her strawberry pancakes and moaned.

Joe's mouth went dry.

"And for breakfast. This is the most fun I've had in a week."

_Me, too, _he thought. _Now if I could only hear that little moan while I'm kissing you, my life would be complete. _"You've had a hard week. And, I just want you to know that Frank and I are here to help you. It's going to be okay. We'll solve this case and everything will be back to normal again." He watched as she struggled to fight back tears.

"You don't know how much that means to me."

"I don't want you to worry."

She sighed and nodded. "I'll try not to." She took a sip of orange juice. "Joe?"

He looked up from his plate.

"Do you think there's still someone after me? I mean, nothing's happened for the past few days. No notes or anything."

He paused as he swallowed his eggs. "I'm not sure."

She nodded and looked down again with a heavy sigh.

He watched her then said, "You may be right though. If the guy was only after information and he hasn't found it, maybe he's figured out you don't have what he wants."

She gave him a hopeful look and Joe felt his heart lurch.

"He hasn't sent you anymore roses, right?"

"Right."

"Well, then, maybe that part of the case resolved itself." He took a bite of sausage. "I'm not saying you shouldn't be careful, but maybe you can relax a little about that."

She sighed with relief and gave him a smile that made him tingle from head to toe.

"Don't worry. I won't let anybody hurt you." He smiled back at her. "Now eat."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Frank walked over to Collig with the Rolodex in hand. "You needed a phone number?"

"Yeah, that registrar guy. You know, the blond with the expensive suits?"

"Evan?"

"I don't know what his name is. All I know is I need him down here. He took off ten minutes after he walked through the door this morning. Said there was too much negative energy in here and it was messing up his aura." Collig looked at Frank. "Just what the hell does that mean?"

Frank stifled his laughter imagining "salt of the earth" Ezra Collig having to deal with the "art world of New York City" crowd. "I think it means being at a crime scene made him uncomfortable."

"Yeah, well, I don't have time for that. Call him and tell him to get back here."

"Will do." Frank surveyed the room. "Find any important clues?"

Collig snorted. "Not really. The professional criminals tend not to leave them laying around."

Frank cocked his head as something under one of the white tablecloths caught his eye. "What did you say?"

"I said...you're dealing with the big boys on this case, Hardy. The real criminals don't tend to give themselves away that easily."

Frank took a few steps forward and bent down to examine what looked like a scrap of knotted tartan. "Chief, do have gloves on you?"

"What?"

"Gloves." Frank gestured to the ground. "I want to check this out."

Collig pulled a pair of latex gloves out of his pocket and handed them to Frank, who quickly tugged them on and reached down for the tartan. It was tied through a piece of cardstock the size of an index card with a handwritten note on it.

"Hmm." Frank held the note where the police chief could see it while he read it aloud.

"Vengeance is still mine. Do not forget, Duncan MacLean, the words of 'Glenara'. Yours in eternity, Elizabeth Campbell."

"What is this nonsense?" Collig looked disgusted.

"I don't know." Frank read the note again. "It sounds like someone is threatening Duncan. In a cryptic sort of way."

"Well, the note might be cryptic, but the gunshot sure wasn't." Collig sighed. "Put it in an evidence bag. We can't afford to overlook any clues."

Frank nodded. "You mean the clues the professional criminals don't leave behind?"

Collig gave him a look. "I don't need you to start acting like your smart ass brother, you hear?"

"Who do you think he learned it from?" Frank said with a grin.

"Your father." Collig answered as he handed him an evidence bag and walked off.

Frank chuckled as he deposited the note in the sack and headed towards the reception desk just as Joe and Emily came through the museum's main doors.

"Emily. Just the person I need to see," Frank called out.

"Did something happen?" An anxious look crossed her face.

"Well, nothing bad at the moment." He held up the bag. "Found an interesting note lying on the floor near Duncan's table. Can you tell me anything about it?" He laid the clear bag on the desk so Emily could read it.

"I've never seen that before in my life."

"Who's Elizabeth Campbell?" Joe wanted to know. "Does she work here?"

"Nobody by that name works here," Emily said, bending down to get a closer look. "That tartan isn't the fabric we used last night to decorate either. It's a different kind of plaid."

"What about this 'Glenara?'" Frank gestured to the note. "It's capitalized like it's a title or something."

Before Emily could respond, the phone rang on the reception desk. She answered it and rolled her eyes. "Could you hold on for just one moment?" She covered the receiver as she looked at Frank and Joe. "This is the insurance company again; I have to take it. Listen, Duncan has a whole library of books in his office on Scotland and Scottish clans. You're welcome to browse through them. I can answer one question for you though...'Glenara' is an old Scottish poem."

Frank nodded. "Thanks, we'll be in Duncan's office." He picked up the evidence bag and turned to leave with Joe.

Emily called out after them. "Joe, thank you again for breakfast. It was exactly what I needed."

He winked at her then headed for the elevators with Frank.

"Finally getting somewhere?" Frank asked as he pushed the button.

"One can only hope."


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: **Thanks for the review, Virtute! Glad you liked the pancake scene. LOL I love writing humor, especially that kind, so there's lots more to come. And yes, the mystery is also ratcheting up several degrees. I promise lots of action in the next chapter! As far as this chapter goes, the story of Lady Elizabeth Campbell is a true one. If anyone wants a link to read more or to see a video of "Lady's Rock", let me know and I'll send it to you. Thanks again to all who are reading!

Chapter 18

"I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her grief,

I dreamt that her lord was a barbarous chief;

On a rock of the ocean fair Ellen did seem;

Glenara! Glenara! Now read me my dream!"

Joe looked up from the book of Scottish poetry he was reading while perched on the edge of Duncan's mahogany desk. "Now what on earth is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," Frank said. "Is there a footnote or something?"

Joe glanced down at the bottom of the page. "Yeah." He flipped through the pages to an appendix at the back of the book. "Okay, it says here that this poem was written by Thomas Campbell as a tribute to Lady Elizabeth Campbell MacLean who was married to Lachlan MacLean, the laird of his clan. Apparently Lachlan wanted to get rid of his wife, so he took her out in a boat and left her on some small rocky island to drown when the tide came in."

"Nice guy," Frank commented.

"Yeah, really." Joe continued reading. "Anyway, someone from her clan was out on the water and apparently heard her crying, so he pulled up and saved her." He grinned. "I guess Lachlan then sent word to her family that she'd been lost at sea. When his messengers arrived at her family's castle to deliver the sad news, Elizabeth Campbell was already there, eating dinner in the hall."

"Ouch," Frank said. "That must have been a surprise."

"Well, apparently revenge is a dish best served cold with this crowd," Joe said. "They let him live for a few years and then Lady Elizabeth's brother stabbed him with a dirk while he was sleeping at an inn one night."

"Good story," Frank said. "Now what could it possibly have to do with Duncan?"

"Other than the fact that his last name is MacLean...you got me." Joe slid the volume back into the floor to ceiling bookshelves behind Duncan's desk. "The note seems to be a threat from Elizabeth from beyond the grave."

"Right before Duncan got shot."

"Did he see the note though? Or was it left afterwards? Maybe by the gunman."

"We'll have to ask him. He's supposed to be back in a few days, right?"

"That's what Emily said."

Frank reached for the evidence bag and held it next to the book he had lying open on the desk. "Joe, do these two patterns look the same?"

Joe peered over his shoulder. "Yeah, why?"

"Because if this book is right, the tartan tied to the note is the plaid for Clan Campbell."

Joe's eyes met his brother's. "Maybe Duncan's right. Maybe he is cursed."

Frank chuckled. "Actually, I think he said you were cursed. When you found that charmstone in Emily's office."

"Nobody shot _me_ last night."

Frank sat in Duncan's chair and leaned back. "Okay, well, it seems like someone is clearly after Duncan, or trying to scare him, for whatever reason. Someone is also after some sort of information Emily may or may not have. Someone murdered Professor Ayres for an undetermined reason. And, someone stole the artifacts from the Scottish clans exhibit and set part of the building on fire, possibly trying to kill me as well."

"And are all of these someones the same someone?" Joe asked, crossing his arms in front of him.

"That's the million dollar question," Frank sighed.

"I wish we had the million dollar answer."

"There's a link. We're just not seeing it." He looked up. "I think we need to dig up some more info on Ayres. Maybe if we can figure out why he was murdered, the rest of this giant mess will fall into place."

"I still have those papers I borrowed from his office on the day of the murder."

"Great. Let's go over them tonight. Maybe with all that's happened in the past ten days, something will pop out at us that we overlooked before."

"I wish Dad were here to bounce theories off of. When's he getting in?"

"Late tonight." Frank replaced the volume on Scottish tartan between the bookends on the desk and picked up the evidence bag as he stood. "Aunt Gertrude went to Southport though, so we're on our own for dinner."

"Pizza?"

"Sounds like a plan."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"Hey Frank, look at this." Joe gestured to something on a piece of paper with one hand while taking a huge bite of the slice of pepperoni pizza in his other hand.

"Don't drip sauce anywhere," Frank warned as he approached his brother, who was seated on the living room couch with his feet propped on the coffee table.

"I'm not an idiot," Joe replied while he chewed. "Look at that last line on this list. Above Duncan's signature. Tell me what that says."

"Breadalbane et al." Frank squinted. "Campbell."

"Didn't Evan call that charmstone that was stolen the 'Breadalbane' charmstone?"

"Yeah, but Duncan mentioned the museum was planning on sending it to them."

"What about the 'et al' part? Wouldn't that be the other charmstones?"

Frank looked at the paper more closely. "Yeah, I suppose it would."

"So does that mean that Duncan requested the other charmstones, too?"

"I don't think so. Look at the writing. 'Et al' is in blue ink. And, part of it's written on top of Duncan's signature. So is 'Campbell'."

"So you think that part was added after he signed the paper requisitioning the other stuff?"

"That's what it looks like."

"So Ayres requested the other charmstones without Duncan knowing about them?"

"It would seem that way."

"I wonder if he wanted to scare him."

"That may have been his intention, or it may not have. He's certainly not the one scaring him with them now."

"Think Duncan found out what Ayres did and killed him?"

Frank shook his head. "That doesn't seem likely. Duncan seemed pretty freaked out when you unpacked that last charmstone. If he knew Ayres had sent for it, he wouldn't have been so surprised to see it."

"This also doesn't explain how the charmstone got into a box from the museum in Edinburgh if they supposedly didn't send the things."

"Well, we haven't gotten the final word on that yet. But let's make sure we follow up on it tomorrow. I think it may be an important piece of the puzzle."

Joe pointed to the paper. "What does this 'Campbell' written here mean?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe we need to check through Ayres' things again. See if he has any contacts named Campbell or something like that."

"First thing in the morning?" Joe stuffed the pizza crust into his mouth.

"Sounds good," Frank agreed, reaching over his brother for the pizza box. A blob of cheese slid off the end of the piece he grabbed and landed on the sofa with a plop.

Joe gave him a huge grin. "Aunt Gertrude is going to kill you. You know you're not allowed to eat in the living room, Frank."

Frank glared at him as he strode into the kitchen to get something to clean up the mess. Joe chuckled and grabbed another slice of pizza from the box.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily entered her house around seven-thirty that evening and collapsed on the living room sofa. "Hey Stace, are you home?"

"Yeah, in here." Stacey and Eric came into the living room holding boxes of Chinese takeout.

"Mmmmm, that smells so good." Emily inhaled deeply as she closed her eyes.

"Want some?" Stacey sat on the couch next to her and handed her a box and chopsticks. "Firecracker chicken."

"Sounds amazing, but are you sure you have enough?" Emily stuck her chopsticks in the box and speared a piece of chicken without waiting for an answer.

"Positive," Stacey laughed. "We still have boxes in the kitchen. Eric always orders enough for an army."

"Well, that's good, because I feel like I can eat enough for an army. I haven't had anything since breakfast." Emily reached for the other box in Stacey's hand. "Please say you have eggrolls."

"I'll get them." Eric set his two boxes down on the coffee table and headed into the kitchen.

"How much do I owe you?" Emily asked, through a mouthful of fried rice.

Stacey waved her hand. "It's on the house. You had an awful night last night. You deserve a treat."

"Thank you," Emily smiled. "Today wasn't that much better either."

"Did you go to the museum?"

"Yeah, and spent most of my time on the phone with insurance people. First I went to the hospital to see Duncan though. He should be getting out in a little while. The wound wasn't as serious as they initially thought it was."

"That's good." Stacey smiled up at Eric as he returned with more takeout containers and handed the eggrolls to Emily.

"Frank Hardy was in there as a patient, too." She took a bite of eggroll and closed her eyes for a minute, savoring the taste. "Did you know he got hurt last night?"

"What? How?"

Emily explained what had happened to Frank, including the fire, and how he'd saved himself by finding the hidden staircase, and looked up to find Stacey and Eric slack jawed.

"Do they have any idea who's behind all this?" Eric wanted to know.

"No," Emily sighed. "Not for lack of trying on the part of the police and Frank and Joe though. Hopefully they'll get a breakthrough soon."

"Joe wasn't hurt last night, was he?" Stacey asked.

"No, I talked to him this morning while I was visiting Frank. He got upset with me because I walked home last night and of course, I started to cry." Emily shook her head. "I'm not a crier. I seriously don't know why I can't seem to hold it together around him. It's humiliating."

"So what happened then?" Stacey asked, settling back on the couch with a box of sweet and sour shrimp.

Emily told her about the scene in the linen closet and everything she and Joe said to each other, finishing with, "So after the whole bit with Heather last night, he says she's not his girlfriend. That he actually has the hots for somebody else."

Stacey picked up a fortune cookie and threw it at Emily's head.

"Hey, what was that for?"

"How can you be so stupid?" Stacey asked. "Seriously, are you really that dumb?"

"What?"

"Emily! He meant you, you idiot!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh my gosh!" Stacey stood up from the couch and threw her arms in the air. "The girl he likes. The one he wants to ask out. It's YOU!"

Emily opened her mouth and closed it without saying anything.

Stacey turned to her boyfriend. "Was he not talking about Emily?"

"He was talking about Emily," Eric agreed as he reached for the box of eggrolls.

"Tu es stupide!" Stacey said with a grin, as she sat back down on the couch.

"B-but he never...I mean he didn't...Why didn't he just..." Emily covered her face with her hands. "Oh my gosh he must think I'm the biggest idiot in the world!"

"Well, if he doesn't, I do," Stacey laughed as she pulled her feet up underneath her.

Emily's face was bright red. "What do I do now?"

Eric shrugged. "Nothing. You know he likes you. I'm assuming you like him."

Emily smiled shyly and nodded her head. "I'm still a little scared about it, but just being in the same room with him is wearing down my resistance. I think I want to go out with him.

"Then just wait. He'll ask you." He glanced at his watch and then at Stacey. "Hey babe, if we don't get going, we're going to be late."

"Hot date tonight?"

"Well, actually, we're going to his parents for the long weekend. Is that okay, Em?"

Emily gave her a blank look. "Long weekend?"

"You are definitely too stressed. It's mid-semester break."

"Oh geez, I totally forgot. With everything that's been going on..." She shrugged her shoulders and left her thoughts unfinished.

Stacey looked at her anxiously. "I won't leave if you're nervous about being here by yourself."

Emily waved her hand. "No. You two go and have fun. I'm not worried anymore. I think whoever trashed my office and my locker was looking for information of some sort. Something I don't have obviously, so he moved on."

"Only if you're sure." Stacey hesitated.

"I'm sure." Emily sat back on the couch. "I'm going to polish off the rest of this Chinese food, watch TV for a little bit and then go to bed. I'm exhausted."

"Okay, but I'm going to check on you tonight. I'll call you around ten."

"I'll be fine. Just go and have fun."

Stacey leaned in and hugged her. "I will. Oh, and guess what?"

"What?"

Stacey grinned. "Joe Hardy has the hots for you."

Emily blushed furiously as she stared into her box of fried rice while Stacey began chanting in a sing-song voice, "Joe and Emily sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G".

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe stuck his head in Frank's bedroom later that night. "Hey, mind if I come in for a minute?"

Frank looked up from his position on the edge of his bed. "No, I was just going through my notes on the case as a matter of fact."

"Good, because something's been bugging me and I haven't been able to put my finger on it until just now."

Frank cleared away his papers and Joe sat down at the foot of the bed.

"What?" Frank asked.

"The fire. The whole thing was too easy. Too cliché."

Frank's eyes widened. "Too easy? What on earth do you mean by that?"

"Come on. You're hit over the head...not enough to kill you, just to stun you for a bit...locked in a room where the main exit is blocked by fire and the only other way out is through a staircase hidden behind a closet wall? Please. I think someone knew that we'd discovered there was a hidden staircase in the museum. And they set the fire and locked you in the room where you'd be forced to find it."

Frank held his hand up to his chin and sat lost in thought for a moment. "So, you're saying that someone found out we had the blueprints and set the fire on purpose so that I would discover the staircase and use it to escape?"

"Yeah." Joe stood up and began pacing across the floor. "Think about it. The fire didn't really damage anything essential. No artifacts. No important files. And the only way you could get out of that room was by going through the closet. That inevitably leads you to the staircase. You follow it and wind up coming through the other side." He paused. "Right into Perriton's office."

Frank looked up at Joe. "We almost fell for it."

"We moved him way up on the suspect list today."

Frank nodded slowly. "You're right. You're absolutely right."

"The whole thing was a smokescreen." He grinned at his brother. "Pardon the pun."

Frank chuckled. "So, whoever set the fire wanted Perriton to appear guilty of harassing Emily at the least and maybe of murdering Ayres at the worst."

"Yeah." Joe sat on the bed again. "I'm not saying that Perriton is completely above suspicion on this, but I am saying that he's not alone."

"I agree." Frank reached for his notebook. "First thing tomorrow, we need to get into that museum and see if there is some other way to get to that hidden staircase besides through Perriton's office."

"Definitely."

"One other question. Did you tell anyone about the blueprints?"

"Not a soul."

"Me neither. So how did anyone else find out we had them?"

"I think Mitch's office must be bugged."

"Makes sense. Let's put that on our list, too."

Joe reached for Frank's notebook. "De-bug security office at museum," he said as he scribbled it down.

"Big day tomorrow."

"Yep, that's why I'm hitting the hay." Joe stood to go.

"Hey, bro?" Frank called out.

"Yeah?"

"Don't ever let me get away with saying I'm the 'smart one' again."

Joe grinned. "I only let you do it to save your ego. I know how hard it would be for you to know that I'm really the smart one AND the cute–"

Joe was cut off by Frank's bed pillow smacking him in the face.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"Glenara" written by Thomas Campbell (1777-1844) Glasgow, Scotland


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: **Thank you for the feedback, Virtute and Leya! I truly appreciate it. And yes, the next time Joe and Emily meet will definitely be interesting...but in a totally different way. LOL Short chapter today, but a longer one next time. Thanks to all who are continuing to read!

Chapter 19

An odd scraping noise awakened Emily from a sound sleep. She sat up in bed and blinked, struggling to rouse herself fully. There it was again. She turned her head toward the window. Was the sash moving? Emily's eyes widened...it was. Someone was trying to break into her room.

Quickly she slid out of bed, opened her door and stepped into the hall. She paused to catch her breath, her hand at her throat. _What do I do? I need to call the police. Wait...the regular police or the campus police? _She heard another noise from her bedroom. _Oh no, what if he's inside? _She dashed into the kitchen, grabbing for the phone and instinctively dialing the number on the message pad in front of it.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"Hello?" Joe mumbled in a sleepy voice.

"J-Joe? Is that you?"

Joe sat up in bed at the sound of a female voice on the other end. "Yeah." He rubbed his eyes. "Who's this?"

"Emily." She spoke barely above a whisper, and Joe could tell by her tone she was frightened.

"What's wrong?" he asked, now fully alert.

"I think someone's breaking into my house. I heard someone trying to open my window."

Joe was already standing up, reaching for his jeans and tugging them on while cradling the phone under his ear. "Okay, listen, I'm on my way. I want you to hide. Somewhere with a locking door, understand?"

"Yes. Shouldn't I go outside?"

He zipped his jeans and grabbed a shirt. "No, you don't know who might be out there."

She gripped the phone receiver more tightly as she heard glass breaking from her bedroom. "I think he's in the house."

He was hurriedly jamming his sneakers on. "I'm coming. I promise. I'm calling the police, too. Just hide, Emily."

"Thank you," she whispered as she quietly hung up the phone.

Looking around frantically, she slipped into the bathroom and turned the lock on the door. She quickly pushed a clothes hamper in front of it and searched around for something she could use as a weapon. The best she could come up with was a drinking glass on the counter. Wrapping it in a towel to muffle the sound, she smashed it against the sink. She quickly opened the towel and pulled out a long jagged shard. Grabbing a washcloth, she wound it around one end of the glass, and holding it tightly, crouched down on the other side of the hamper, hoping that with her weight pressed against it, the door would be a little more difficult to open.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe grabbed the keys for the van off his dresser and dashed down the hall, bumping into Frank.

"Who was on the phone?"

"Emily," Joe replied, thundering down the stairs. "Someone's breaking into her house."

"What?" Frank snatched a pair of sweatpants from a chair in his room and shoved one leg in while he picked up a t-shirt lying on the floor. "Joe, wait!"

Bending down for a pair of sneakers, he followed his brother down the stairs and out the front door. He jumped into the van as Joe was backing out of the driveway.

"Get the police on the CB," Joe ordered.

Frank pulled his t-shirt over his head and reached for the radio. While he made the call, Joe squealed around the corner.

"Yeah, this is Frank Hardy. We had a call from a friend on campus saying someone is trying to break in. She lives in the French house."

Joe sped through a stop sign.

"About five minutes ago," Frank replied to the dispatcher, while he braced himself against the dashboard.

"She said he was coming in through her bedroom," Joe told him.

Frank repeated the information, then thanked the dispatcher and hung up the CB. "They're sending officers." He studied the expression on his brother's face. "Don't worry. We're not far away."

The tires squealed as Joe pulled the van into the parking lot closest to Emily's house, and exited almost before he pulled the key out of the ignition. Frank jumped down from the passenger's side and caught up with his brother.

"Joe, calm down. We can't rush the house."

He took a deep breath. "I've got to get to her."

"We will." Frank stepped in front of him. "Follow me, okay?"

"Only if you hurry."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily tried to remain perfectly still in the bathroom, but she could hear someone moving around in the house. They weren't being quiet either. She could tell things were being thrown, furniture was being knocked over and glass was breaking. _What on earth do they want? Whoever it is must think we've all gone away for the weekend. _

She bit her lip and tried to control her shaking. The noises were getting closer, and she could hear a male voice repeatedly uttering expletives. _What will he do when he finds me here?_ She had no doubt her hiding place would eventually be discovered. He seemed to be searching the house thoroughly and it was only a matter of moments before he would be facing the locked bathroom door. She briefly closed her eyes and prayed help would arrive before he did.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Frank held his hand out to stop Joe as they reached the front of Emily's house. No lights were on, but they could hear noise coming from within.

"Someone's got her." Joe started for the door, but his brother held him back.

"We can't put her in any more danger," Frank warned.

Joe shook him off. "I'm going in there."

Frank noticed the lights from the police cruiser in the distance. "Wait one more second. At least until I can approach from the back of the house."

"No." Joe tried the front door and found it locked.

Frank sighed and jogged quickly to the backyard, while Joe ran his hands around the doorknob, testing the wood for its strength. He backed up and was about to strike with a well-placed kick against the door plate, when a flashlight shone directly on him.

"Don't do it, Hardy. Unless you want me to arrest you for breaking and entering."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily cringed as the noises got closer to her. The man seemed to be getting angrier by the minute, judging by the amount of swearing he was doing. She heard something strike the bathroom door and she held her breath. There was silence for a moment, and then the door knob jiggled. _Oh, no._

Emily braced her back against the hamper, exerting as much pressure as she could. She heard the intruder trying the door again. She squeezed her eyes shut as he began banging the wooden frame. _This door can't take it...it's too old._ She gripped her makeshift weapon tightly and waited for the inevitable.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: **Thank you for the reviews, Killian and Virtute! And yes, when you get tangled up with the Hardy Boys, your life tends to get a little more exciting. LOL The bad guy clearly wants something here...but what? This and more questions will be answered soon. But not before more action, a little romance, and hopefully a lot of humor, too. Stay tuned! And thanks for reading! I really appreciate it. :-)

Chapter 20

Con Riley jogged up to Emily's front door. "What do you think you're doing?"

"My girlfriend is in there and I need to get her out," Joe told him. _Girlfriend?_ _Where did that come from?_

"That's what we're here for," Con said, motioning to two other officers who fanned out around the perimeter of the house. "You stay back." He drew his weapon and paused waiting for the signal from his back-up that they were in place. A crackly noise came over his walkie-talkie.

"Found Frank Hardy back here, boss."

Con rolled his eyes. "Of course." He glared at Joe as he spoke softly into the walkie-talkie, "Keep him outside the house."

"Aren't you going in?" Joe hissed.

"Not blindly. That could only hurt your girlfriend. Now stay back before I decide to handcuff you to the cruiser."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily heard the wooden door splintering over her head. She braced herself more tightly against it, knowing all the while it was a futile effort. The door swung off its hinges and opened as the intruder barged into the small room.

Emily gasped and scooted across the floor until her back met the edge of the bathtub. The man seemed startled by her presence and stared down at her. She gulped. "W-who are you?" she whispered.

She struggled in vain to find some sort of way of identifying him, but he was wearing a dark blue ski mask and had black leather gloves on. He moved toward her and she shrunk down, keeping a tight grip on her make-shift weapon.

"Where is it?" he grated, reaching down for her.

She tried to duck out of the man's way and scramble around him, but he was much stronger, and grabbed her arm roughly, hauling her to her feet.

She thrashed violently, trying as hard as she could to pull herself toward the door, so she could have a chance for escape. He was squeezing her so tightly, she thought for sure he must be breaking the bones in her forearm.

Desperately, she turned and lashed out with the shard of glass, catching him in his upper arm, and dragging the glass downward. He yelped and loosened his grip on her slightly. Emily twisted and slipped away, dashing out of the bathroom. The man clutched at his arm as he dove after her. He managed to snag the hem of her nightgown and yank it, sending her sprawling onto the tile floor of the kitchen.

She cried out as he grabbed her leg, pulling her back toward him. The towel-wrapped shard slipped from her grasp, and she found herself completely defenseless.

"You bitch," he seethed as his hand grabbed a fistful of her hair. He pulled it, forcing her back onto her knees. He knelt down behind her and held her against his chest. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, "Now you're going to tell me where it is. We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

Before Emily could reply, the slight squeak of a door hinge betrayed Con's Riley's presence to the intruder. He hurriedly shoved Emily forward and took off, slipping quickly and silently down the cellar stairs.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe waited approximately ten seconds, then eased himself through the front door after Con. The police officer glared at him, then gestured for him to stay behind as they picked their way through the overturned furniture in the dark. They stepped into the kitchen, where Joe quickly spotted Emily, face down and motionless on the tile floor. Ignoring Con, he rushed over to her, as Frank entered the room from the back door.

"Emily?" Joe knelt down and softly stroked her hair.

Frank looked toward Con. "Your officers are chasing him. The guy slipped through the outside basement door."

Con flipped on the kitchen light. "He must have been pretty familiar with this place." He reached for his radio. "Yeah, get me an ambulance up on campus. The French house. Right off Presidential Circle." He knelt down on the other side of Emily and reached for her wrist. "Strong pulse," he commented. "I wouldn't move her though."

As Con released her wrist, Emily began to stir and she tried to push herself into a sitting position. Joe put his arms around her to steady her and she began thrashing. "No, don't hurt me," she cried. "Please, I don't know what you want."

"Em, it's me. It's Joe." He turned her toward him and she blinked. "It's Joe, Emily. The intruder is gone."

She shook her head as if trying to clear it. Then her eyes widened. "He went into the basement. He might still be there."

"He escaped," Frank told her. "The police are after him now."

Emily turned at the sound of Frank's voice, and Joe could tell she suddenly became aware of her surroundings. He watched her, still holding her tightly in his arms, as she looked up at him. "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes watery.

Before Joe could reply, Con interrupted, "Had you ever seen this guy before? Can you identify him?"

As Emily turned to fully face Con for the first time, Joe warily gauged his reaction to her. He noticed the officer's eyes widen as he took in Emily's face and figure. Con fumbled with his notebook and looked away quickly when he caught Joe's hardened stare.

"I-I don't know. I couldn't tell what he looked like. He had on a ski mask, and it was so dark..." Emily's voice faltered and she shivered slightly in Joe's arms.

"Can't this wait, Con?" Joe asked, in an irritated tone. "I want to make sure she's not hurt, and she's not really dressed for an interrogation."

Joe watched as Con's gaze scanned over Emily's thin silk nightgown. The flash of anger that came over him was startling. _She's not yours,_ he reminded himself.

Emily folded her arms across her chest, and Joe sensed his comment made her acutely aware of her lack of clothing. He jumped up and went into the living room. Spying an afghan draped over the back of a sofa, he grabbed it and kneeling down next to her again, placed it around her shoulders. She smiled up at him, a grateful expression on her face.

Con cleared his throat. "Well, I guess we can keep this brief for tonight. Is there anything you can tell us about the intruder?"

Emily's brow furrowed. "He wanted something specific, but I have no idea what it was. His first words to me were 'Where is it.'"

Con scribbled furiously. "Did you recognize his voice?"

She shook her head. "No, but I think he was trying to disguise it on purpose." She looked up. "I did injure him, though."

Con paused. "How?"

"I broke a glass in the bathroom. I didn't have any other weapon, and I was really scared." She smiled at Joe as he gently rubbed her back. "When he came into the bathroom, I jammed the glass into his shoulder and dragged it down his arm. I know I got him, because he released his grip on me and started swearing."

"Where's that glass now?" Con demanded.

"I-I don't know. When he yanked my nightgown, it slipped out of my hands."

"Here it is," Frank said, pointing to a jagged shard on the floor. "It has blood on it." He smiled at Emily. "I'd say you got him good."

The back door swung open and the two other Bayport police officers entered the house, clearly out of breath.

"He got away," one of them told Con. "I don't know how he did it. It's like he just vanished into thin air."

"Swell," Con muttered as his two officers delivered their report. "Listen, don't move anything here," he said to Frank and Joe. "We'll work on the scene tonight, but I also want to get a look at it in the daylight." He turned to Emily. "Is there somewhere else you can stay for the weekend?"

"She's staying with me," Joe interrupted.

Frank raised an eyebrow, while Emily gave Joe a grateful smile.

"Can I get some of my things?" she asked Con.

He scratched his head. "Uh, yeah. Let me go in your room with you. I don't want anything disturbed unnecessarily." He nudged one of his officers who was on the radio directing more units to search for the suspect. "I need a camera."

The officer grabbed one out of a bag of gear he'd brought in from the cruiser. Con smiled at Emily. "I'll have to go with you and take some photos and collect any evidence first. After I clear the room, you can get your things."

Emily nodded and Joe helped her up from the floor. "Are you okay?" he asked, his arm still around her.

"I think so," she replied, sagging against him. "Just a little woozy. I banged my head on the tile when he grabbed my nightgown."

"I heard Con call for an ambulance," Joe told her. "Let's get you looked at before we go anywhere."

OOO

His smile was warm and reassuring, and Emily felt tears in her eyes. "Thank you," she said, feeling secure for the first time that night.

Joe pulled her close to him and hugged her. "It's going to be okay. I promise."

Emily nodded against his chest, thinking she wanted to stay that way forever. Warm, safe and protected. Con's voice interrupted her. "Which room is yours?"

She wiped her eyes as she stepped back from Joe. "Third door on the left at the end of the hall."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

An hour later, after being checked out by the EMTs and pronounced "okay, but watch that bump on her head", and having hurriedly thrown a few items into a small bag under Joe and Con's supervision, Emily stood at the front door of the Hardy house. "Are you sure your dad won't be upset?" she asked, a bit nervous. "I mean, you are bringing home a strange girl at three in the morning."

"Oh, Frank does that all the time," Joe quipped.

"Joe," his brother protested, rolling his eyes, while Emily giggled.

"Don't worry, everything will be fine," Joe assured her. "You'll like Dad. I promise."

"Although you probably won't meet him until breakfast," Frank said with a grin.

"Oh man, we could have fun with this." Joe chuckled as he opened the front door.

Frank clicked on the hall light. "Behave, Joe." He guided Emily inside. "Ignore my moronic brother. May I show you to your room?"

Emily looked around the Hardys' welcoming and comfortable living room and smiled. "Thank you. That would be great."

Joe snatched Emily's bag from Frank and glared at him. "I've got it." He steered her toward the stairs, placing his free hand low on her back to guide her.

OOO

When they got to the top landing, Joe gestured to the guest room, down the hall and to the right. He stepped in first and clicked on the small light on the bedside table.

"Oh, this is pretty," Emily said. She looked appreciatively at the full-sized mahogany four poster bed, covered with a fluffy duvet and piled high with pillows.

Joe grinned. "Frank and I don't do the decorating. That's Aunt Gertrude's job. She's visiting her friend in Southport for awhile, so you won't have to be interrogated by her while you're here."

"Aunt Gertrude?"

"Yeah, my mom died in a car accident when I was three. Drunk driver. Aunt Gertrude came to live with us and she's been here ever since."

"Oh Joe, I'm so sorry." Emily's voice was full of sympathy.

"Thanks." He smiled. "That means a lot."

She moved to gaze at the old-fashioned dresser topped with a cheval mirror. "Well, your Aunt Gertrude has good taste."

He set her bag next to an antique rocking chair. "I think she's just making up for the lack of style in mine and Frank's rooms."

She gave him a dimpled smile that made his heart beat faster. "I'll have to check that out, then. I'm sure there's some sort of style there. Even if it's a little...eclectic."

"If by 'eclectic', you mean 'messy', then I'll agree." He walked over to her. "How's your head?" he asked, softly brushing away the hair on her forehead to get a closer look at the swelling.

He felt her shiver slightly at his touch. She smiled at him. "Not too bad. The pain killers the EMT gave me are helping a lot. It could have been worse. I'm just thankful I was able to brace myself with my hands when I fell."

Joe's face was grim. "I'm going to find this guy. And he's going to pay for hurting you."

Emily reached out and touched his arm. "Thank you for being there tonight for me. You saved me."

He pulled her in for a gentle hug. "Thank you for calling me."

"I didn't know what else to do."

"You did the right thing. I just wish he hadn't got away."

She sighed deeply. "Me too."

Joe felt her sag against him and he leaned his head back a bit. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She nodded. "I'm just exhausted. I guess this night is catching up with me."

He smiled. "Well, why don't you get some sleep and we'll try to figure it all out in the morning."

She giggled. "It is morning."

He chuckled against her hair. "You're right. _Later_ in the morning."

"Sounds good." She stepped out of his embrace. "Thank you again."

Joe fought to keep the look of disappointment off his face. "Um, no problem. Goodnight, Emily."

"Goodnight. And tell Frank thanks, too" she said softly as he stepped into the hall, closing her door behind him. As he went to step forward, he ran into Frank.

"Have a minute?"

"Yeah," Joe replied. "Your room or mine?"

"Mine," Frank told him. "I can't think in yours. Too messy."

Joe rolled his eyes and followed his brother down the hall. He sat on the bed and looked up at him expectantly.

Frank paced for a minute or two. "Okay, a couple of things. So, whoever was harassing Emily hasn't given up. They still think she has whatever they're looking for." He turned to Joe. "What on earth are they looking for?"

"No idea. And she says she doesn't know either." Joe was thoughtful. "It obviously has something to do with the museum. And, if it's something she has, it's something she doesn't know about or something she took inadvertently."

"Something that implicates the murder suspect, maybe?" Frank suggested.

Joe nodded. "Yeah, if she has damaging evidence in her possession, the murderer is definitely coming after it."

"Which means he won't give up until he has it."

"And, he's not stupid. He got away from the cops."

"So, we need to get Emily to give us everything she has that relates to the museum. Papers, memos, books...anything and everything," Frank continued.

"Yeah," Joe agreed. "Con should be finished over there by daylight. We can leave right after breakfast." He shifted his weight on the mattress. "I guess this changes our priorities on the case a little bit."

Frank nodded. "We need to find out what this guy is after before he really hurts Emily."

"Hopefully Con can pick up some kind of clue in the house that might ID the guy."

Frank glanced at Joe out of the corner of his eye. "So what's going on between you two?"

"Me and Con? Nothing," Joe said with a grin. "He's not my type."

Frank rolled his eyes. "You know who I'm talking about."

"Oh, you mean Emily." Joe leaned back against the headboard. "Not nearly as much as I'd like."

"So I was right. There is a girl out there impervious to the charms of Joe Hardy."

Joe tossed a pillow at his head. "I wouldn't say that. I just thought I'd have a date by now, at least."

"Cut her some slack. She's had a hell of a week and she was just attacked by a lunatic in her own home."

Joe shook his head. "It's not that. She's holding back."

"Feeling 'connected' again?" Frank asked with a grin.

"Shut up," Joe retorted. "Something is scaring her. And I don't mean the nut who broke into her house. And until I find out what that is, I'm not going to get anywhere with her."

Frank almost made another smart remark, but stopped when he saw the look on his brother's face. "You really care about her, don't you?"

"Yeah, I think I do."

"Then don't give up." He walked over and slapped his brother on the back. "Put your detective skills to good use and get the girl."


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, Leya and Virtute! I love feedback! LOL I'm glad you liked Con and Joe, Leya. It was fun to write. I like Con and wanted to include him somewhere in the story. And thanks, Virtute, for your comments about Emily. I'm not into completely helpless girls either. And I'm glad you thought Joe was funny. I love writing banter between them...their personalities make it easy, so there will be lots more of that coming up. And I really hope you enjoy Fenton in this chapter. He's one of my favorite "Hardy Boys" characters. And, just a heads up for all readers...this is based on the 70s TV show canon...so Laura Hardy is again for reading!

Chapter 21

Fenton Hardy paused as he descended the stairs the next morning. He sniffed the air. Bacon. _Don't tell me Frank and Joe are cooking?_

He chuckled as he opened the front door and grabbed his newspaper off the porch. He sniffed the air again. _That smells like something is baking. Something really delicious. Something with cinnamon. The boys don't even know where we keep the cinnamon let alone how to cook with it._

A puzzled expression on his face, he wandered into the kitchen. Standing behind the counter was a beautiful, dark-haired young woman he'd never seen before in his life. His expression changed to one of astonishment. The girl looked up and smiled at him. _Gorgeous._ Fenton realized his mouth was hanging open and quickly shut it. "I-I'm Fenton Hardy."

"Emily Clark", she said, still smiling. "Nice to meet you."

"You too," he replied, moving toward her.

"I hope you don't mind that I took over your kitchen."

"No, not at all. Whatever you're making smells wonderful." He took a seat on a stool in front of the counter. _Okay, Fenton, this is one conversation you've neglected to have with the boys, but you should have seen it coming. Frank is twenty-two. Joe is twenty-one. Why didn't occur to you that they might want to bring a girl home to spend the night?_

"Would you like some coffee?" Emily smiled at him as she filled a mug and set it in front of him.

"Yeah, that'd be great." He returned the smile as he added a teaspoon of sugar and stirred it with a spoon. _She looks more like Joe's type. Breathtakingly beautiful. _"So Emily, are you a student at Bayport?"

"Yes, I'm majoring in Art History and French."

_Frank,_ Fenton thought. _Definitely Frank._ "Wow, that sounds interesting. How did you meet my son?"

"He needed to attend a cultural experience for his Humanities class and didn't want to sit through an opera." She gave him a dimpled smile as she sliced some coffee cake and set it on a plate. "He thought a tour of an art exhibit would be less painful."

_Joe. That would be Joe_. "This looks delicious," Fenton said as she set the plate down and handed him a fork. "Do you like to cook?"

"Love it," she said, her eyes lighting up. "I don't have much opportunity at school. No time. So, when Frank and Joe brought me here last night and I saw your kitchen, I couldn't resist."

Fenton choked on his coffee. "Frank _and_ Joe?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is it too hot?" Emily's voice was full of concern.

"No, no, it's fine. Very good, actually." He cleared his throat. "Um, did you say Frank_ and _Joe brought you home?"

"Yes," she smiled. "They're both so nice, Mr. Hardy. You must be very proud of them."

_Not right at moment_, Fenton thought dryly.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe groaned and glanced at the clock on his bedside table. Eight-thirty. He yawned and sniffed the air. _Aunt Gertrude must be cooking bacon. _

_Wait a minute, Aunt Gertrude went to Southport to spend some time with her friend. Which could only mean...Emily._ Joe jumped up quickly and looked around the room. Grabbing a pair of sweat pants from the back of a chair, he hastily pulled them on. He reached for a t-shirt as he stepped into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and splashed cold water on his face before exiting and bumping into Frank in the hallway.

"Emily must be up." Frank had already showered and was dressed in jeans and long-sleeve polo shirt.

"Yeah," Joe mumbled, silently cursing himself for not rising sooner. He tried his best to straighten his hair.

"Which probably means Dad is, too." Frank headed downstairs, followed by Joe. He paused at the swinging doors leading to the kitchen. "This should be interesting," he said with a grin.

Joe rolled his eyes as he tried to move past Frank. His brother held out his arm to stop him. "Wait," he whispered. "Let's listen to the infamous Fenton Hardy do some master detective work."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"So, Emily," Fenton said with a smile, as he stirred his coffee. "Have my boys been treating you well?"

"They're so nice," she replied. "I don't know what I would have done last night without them." She bent her head down as she chopped a green pepper. "Joe saved my life."

"Saved your life?"

"Some maniac broke into my house," she explained, hastily wiping away a tear from her eye. "I don't know what he was after. I called Joe and he and Frank came right away."

"Did they catch the guy?"

She shook her head. "He got away. The police couldn't even find him." Emily sighed. "I was so scared. Joe was nice enough to invite me to stay here." She looked up. "I hope that's okay."

"Of course," Fenton reassured her. "You can stay as long as you like." He winked at her. "Especially if you cook."

Emily giggled. "Do you like omelets?"

"Love them."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"Is Dad _flirting_ with her?" Joe was incredulous.

Frank grinned. "You'd better get in there if you want to hang onto your woman."

"Unbelievable," Joe muttered as he burst through the swinging doors and into the kitchen. "Morning, everyone."

Emily smiled at him and Fenton turned, raising an eyebrow in his youngest son's direction.

"Dad, I see you've met Emily." He stepped behind the counter and put his arm around her shoulders possessively. "Did you sleep okay?" he asked her.

"Yes, thank you. I felt very safe here." She turned and gestured to Fenton. "And I've been having a lovely conversation with your father."

"Yeah, I heard." Joe turned around to see the coffee cake on the counter and bacon being kept warm in the oven. "Wow, this looks great."

"Smells great, too," Frank added as he stepped into the room. "You didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to," she insisted. "After all you've done for me, the least I can do is make you breakfast."

"I'm not objecting," Frank said. "It's far better than what we would have had."

"Great." Emily smiled. "Then tell me what you want in your omelet and we can get started."

While Joe was putting in his breakfast order, the telephone rang and Frank stepped across the room to answer it. After a short conversation, he returned to the kitchen counter. "That was Con," he announced.

"Oh, really?" Joe handed Emily a plate with the green pepper she'd chopped. "What did he have to say?"

"The house has been cleared. They didn't find a lot of evidence, except for the piece of glass Emily stabbed the intruder with. They're taking that to the lab."

Joe nodded. "So, then what we need to do is go back there after breakfast and see if we can figure out what our bad guy was looking for."

"How will you do that?" Emily wanted to know.

"Well, first let's start with anything you may have brought home from work," Frank said. "We have to assume that with what happened at the museum, this guy thinks you have something that could be damaging and he wants it back."

Emily's eyes widened. "You mean, you think it was the murderer who attacked me last night?"

"We would have no way of knowing that," Joe spoke up, glaring at Frank. "He could have been after something that belonged to one of your roommates."

"B-but he saw me. He knew it was me and he asked me specifically where it was." Emily's eyes clouded. "I have no idea what he was talking about though."

Joe ran his hand up and down her arm reassuringly. "It's okay. I don't want you to worry. We're going to get this guy. I promise."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily hesitated as she watched Frank open the door to her house later that morning and step inside. He turned around. "I'll walk through and make sure it's okay first if that will help."

"I-I'm sorry. I feel like such a baby."

Joe patted her back reassuringly. "Don't be ridiculous. What you're feeling is perfectly normal."

"I'll check things out. You two wait here." Frank walked through the front door and headed toward the bedrooms while Joe led Emily inside.

She stopped and looked around the mess that had been her living room. Joe watched as her eyes touched on every object, her distress growing visibly.

"Everything's all right back there," Frank said. "I'll just check the kitchen."

"The kitchen," she whispered, her expression growing more fearful. She stepped toward Joe and unconsciously slipped her hand into his. "I-I don't know if..."

"You don't have to go in there right now," he said gently.

"It's just that I can still feel him grabbing me. He wanted to hurt me. He would have if you–"

"Emily, it's okay. I'm here now." He squeezed her hand. "I'll keep you safe."

"I know you will." She sighed deeply and Joe watched her shoulders stiffen as she steeled herself from within. "Okay, let's get to work."

He smiled at her. "It'll be all right."

Frank re-entered the living area. "What do you say we start with the bedroom? I noticed Emily's was the only one disturbed."

She paled. "That means he knew which bedroom was mine. So, he's either a friend of mine or he's been stalking me, right?" She stared at Joe, her eyes wide. "Oh my gosh, I can't trust anyone."

He turned and rested both of his hands on her shoulders. "You can trust us. Me and Frank."

She stared into his eyes and nodded. "I know. I do. I do trust you." She tried to smile. "Thank you. I know I must look like a complete ninny. I don't mean to."

Joe slipped his arm around her waist. "You don't. Now, let's get to the bottom of this, okay?"

They walked down the hallway and Joe paused as he peered into another bedroom before he reached Emily's. "Who lives here?"

"Oh, that's Kate and Julie's room. They're doing study abroad in Paris this semester. They'll be back in January."

They continued down the hall to the bedroom Emily shared with Stacey. She stepped through the doorway and gasped. Just about everything she owned had been turned upside down, opened, spilled or rummaged through. "It will take me weeks to clean this up."

"No, it won't," Joe assured her. "We're here to help."

Frank stood at the entrance to her room, a pensive look on his face. "You know what I've noticed? He's after paper."

"What?" Joe asked.

"Look at her desk." Frank pointed to the old-fashioned secretary in the corner. "All the drawers are opened, but only if they could have held paper. The rest of the stuff is messed up, but it's just been pushed out of the way. All those folders have been rummaged through. The same thing with the living room. He only went through the bookcase and anything else with piles of paper on it. The rest of the stuff was damaged because it was in his way."

"So, you're saying he was looking for a document of some sort?" Joe clarified.

"Something written down." Frank walked over to Emily's desk. "Look at this middle drawer. If he were looking for a key or something like that, this would be messed up more. Clearly, the guy opened it, didn't see any paper and moved on. The files are spread out all over the place. Those were searched."

"You're right," Joe said slowly. "And whatever it is, he thinks you have it, Em."

"I wish I knew what it was," she said. "I'd gladly give it back if that meant whoever is doing this would leave me alone."

"Well," Frank said, a thoughtful expression on his face, "let's start going through all this stuff. Maybe we can find whatever it was he couldn't."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Having finished straightening the top of Emily's desk, Joe turned to retrieve some items that had been dumped out of her dresser drawers. He righted the drawer nearest him and began sorting through the clothing that lay closest to it. Lace. He was holding handfuls of lace. Slowly he separated the items. Panties. Very tiny, very sexy panties. He swallowed hard as he glanced across the room where Emily was browsing through a file folder.

He thought she must have felt his gaze on her, because she looked up, then burst out laughing. "Oh, sorry. You don't need to put away my lingerie. I can do that later."

Joe gave her a wicked grin. "So these _are_ yours."

"You discovered my secret," she smiled, "I'm a girly-girl at heart. I love lacy things." She picked up papers that had been strewn near her and put them back in the file.

"Hmm," he remarked laying her undergarments gently in the drawer. "What do you know? I love lacy things, too."

Emily hung her head, and Joe could tell she was trying to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks as she reached toward another pile of scattered papers.

Frank interrupted the conversation as he entered the bedroom with an accordion file in his hands. "Emily?"

"Yeah?" She scrambled to her feet.

He held up the file. "This is museum stuff, right?"

She nodded.

"Do you keep anything else from the museum here in the house?"

"Um, no, not usually." She walked down the path she and Joe had managed to clear in her bedroom. "I try to get all my work done there. Why?"

"Well, it's obvious to me in the way your intruder went over this file that it contained some stuff he was interested in."

"What do you mean?" Joe asked, walking toward his brother and taking the papers he was holding.

"This was spread out neatly on top of the television. He was looking for something in here...carefully," Frank explained.

"There's nothing important in it, though," Emily said. "It's just some mock-ups for publicity on the Scottish clans exhibit." She stood in front of Joe and watched as he leafed through the papers. "There isn't even anything missing."

"Maybe not," Frank said, "but it's a huge clue. Whatever this guy was looking for definitely has to do with the museum."

"But why me? Why would he think I have something?" Emily asked. "I don't even look at important documents there, let alone take them home."

"Maybe whatever it is you have, it's something you acquired accidentally," Frank mused.

"I'm not following you," Emily said.

"I mean, maybe you picked up something meant for someone else. Or someone gave you something meant for someone else," Frank explained.

"Well, I suppose that's possible," she said slowly. "I haven't come across anything though."

Joe began pacing the floor, lost in thought. "Whatever it was this guy was after, he hasn't found it." He looked up at Emily. "You heard him searching the house before he found you in the bathroom, right?"

She nodded.

"And when he grabbed you, he asked you 'where was it?'"

Emily shivered slightly at the memory. "Yes. He grabbed me by the hair and said, 'Now you're going to tell me where it is. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.'"

Joe looked at Frank. "So whatever he was looking for, he didn't find it in these papers."

Frank rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Emily, do you keep any information on the museum somewhere besides your office or here?"

"No, not usually."

Frank sighed. "Do you have another locker on campus, or anything like that?"

"No."

Joe noticed she was becoming visibly upset again. He put his arm around her shoulders. "Hey, do you by chance have some sodas here or something? I'm kind of thirsty after all that cleaning."

She smiled. "Of course. I'm sorry I didn't offer you both something sooner. Hang on, I'll be right back."

She started for the kitchen and paused at the door, the scene from last night vivid in her mind. She took a deep breath and forced herself into the room, her gaze focused only on the refrigerator. "You are not going to let this creep make you his victim forever," she whispered as she reached in and grabbed a pitcher of lemonade.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"What do you think?" Joe asked Frank when Emily left the living room.

"I think this guy is serious and he's not going to give up until he has what he wants," Frank responded.

"And he's pretty convinced Emily has it."

Frank nodded. "I think he knows she does, which means he was probably the one who inadvertently gave her what he's now looking for."

"Then we need to get her to tell us everyone she's spoken with or dealt with in regard to this Scotland exhibit," Joe said.

Emily stepped back into the room carrying a small tray with three tall glasses on them filled with lemonade and ice. "Here you go."

Joe hurried to her side to take the tray. She smiled up at him, her eyes shining. "I did it. I went into the kitchen all by myself."

It dawned on him what he'd just asked her to do and his stomach sank. "Oh, Emily, I'm sorry. I should have come with you. Or better yet, gotten the drinks on my own. What a jerk I am."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I needed to do that. I don't want to be afraid all the time."

Frank stepped over and picked up a glass. "Good job, Em. And I don't think you should be afraid all the time either. But until this guy's caught, you do need to be extremely careful."

"And I don't think you should stay here either," Joe said.

"Oh." Her face fell. "Well, maybe I can bunk with some friends in the dorms."

"What are you talking about?" Joe asked. "You can stay with us."

"I couldn't," she said. "You two have done so much already. I-I can't just camp out at your house."

Joe handed her a glass and set the tray down. "I insist," he said, holding her gaze. "I want you where I know you're safe."

"But..." she protested.

"But nothing," he continued. "We live in a safe neighborhood, our house has a great alarm system, and my dad is a former NYPD detective. You can't get that in the dorms." He smiled at her. "You're staying with us. End of discussion."

Emily crossed her arms in front of her. "Do you always get your way, Joe Hardy?"

"No, he doesn't," Frank said with a grin.

"But this time I am," he insisted.

She gave him a sly smile. "This time. But don't expect me to give into you this easily again, mister."

"Go pack," Joe told her with a chuckle.

She set her drink on the coffee table and disappeared down the hall to her bedroom.

"She just gave into you again," Frank said in disbelief.

"It's about time," Joe sighed as he sipped his lemonade.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: **Thank you for the feedback, "Anonymous" and Virtute! I'm sorry if you find Emily a tad annoying, Anonymous. Obviously that wasn't my intention. LOL I did run her character through two separate "Mary Sue" litmus tests and she passed with flying colors. I will say in her defense that she has only known the Hardys for a week and she's a guest in their home, so she is trying to be as nice and sweet as she possibly can, given the circumstances. She does have issues and problems as any other normal person...some of which we'll see in this chapter. She's just not willing to put all of her faults on public display yet since she's only just met Joe and does want him to like her. LOL If I were "in her head" more in this story, you'd see some of them. But, if you still don't like her...I promise I won't force you read. ;-) Not every story is for every reader.

Virtute, I loved the idea of having a story where the boys were a little older and Fenton would have to deal with having a relationship with adult children. I had fun with this last scene...mainly because I love Fenton. LOL As far as TV show canon...all we know is that Laura passed away when the boys were very young and Aunt Gertrude moved in to help Fenton raise them. The drunk driver bit was mine. Other canon for the show has Chet Morton as a character, but not Iola. Callie as Fenton's office assistant, but not Frank's love interest. Vanessa Bender doesn't exist, since the TV series pre-dated the "Casefiles" incarnation of the "Hardy Boys". Thanks again to all reading and onto a chapter where there's a little break from the mystery (but we'll get right back to it in the next installment)!

Chapter 22

When they returned to the Hardy home, Emily retired to the guest room to unpack more things she'd brought from her house. Frank gestured to Joe who followed him into Fenton's office.

"What's up?" Joe asked.

"We need a game plan, here."

"Yeah, no kidding."

Frank paced the floor, lost in thought. "Okay, so whoever broke into Emily's house is clearly the same person who ransacked her office and trashed her locker."

"Which means he didn't find what he was looking for in either of those places."

"And he didn't find what he was looking for in her house either."

"Do you think he expected to find _her _there?" Joe wanted to know.

"Not sure." Frank sighed and turned to face his brother. "And the answer to that is going to be important."

"Yeah," Joe agreed. "If he thought she was away for the long weekend, he was only interested in whatever he thinks she has. And if he knew she was home..." He couldn't finish the thought.

"He really wanted to hurt her and couldn't because we arrived in time to stop him."

"You think he's the murderer?"

"I don't know."

"I don't want to scare her anymore."

"She's already scared."

"I know." Joe sighed. "I think I need to do something to distract her for awhile."

"Make out with her in a dark room?" Frank suggested with a grin.

Joe rolled his eyes then followed it up with a smile. "Not yet." He snapped his fingers. "I know. I have an assignment due in my photography class next week. I'll make her the subject and go shoot some photos."

"Sounds good. I need to finish a paper for my Shakespeare class anyway. Why don't we meet back here in a couple of hours and then we can get back to the case."

Joe nodded. "I think I need some time to clear my head anyway. Maybe something will come to me. We're missing something, you know. And I feel like it's something obvious."

Frank leaned against his father's desk. "Yeah, I feel like the key to this whole thing is right in front of us, and somehow we're just not seeing it."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe led Emily over to a bench in the park adjacent to the university campus. She inhaled a deep breath of the crisp autumn air and smiled at him, making his heart flutter in his chest. "Thank you for bringing me here. It's just what I needed."

He smiled back at her. "Thank you for agreeing to help me with my class assignment."

"Well, I'm not sure what you want me to do exactly..."

Joe reached down into his duffle bag and brought out his camera and a lens. "Just be yourself," he said, as he attached the lens and looked through the viewfinder at her. "Beautiful," he murmured, clicking the shutter.

She giggled. "You're making me feel self-conscious."

"Don't be," he replied, taking another few pictures right in a row. He stood and looked towards a grove of trees about twenty yards away. "Let's go over there. Then I can play with the shadows a little bit more."

He grabbed his bag and reached back for her hand. Emily placed it tentatively in his and they walked toward the trees.

"This will be perfect," he told her. "The leaves are just the right color."

"Are you sure you want _me_ in the photos?" she asked. "I think some shots of these orange leaves against the deep blue sky would be stunning."

He turned and smiled at her. "I'm sure."

She hung her head and Joe could tell she was blushing. _Hopefully that's a good sign, _he thought as he paused at the edge of the grove and set his camera bag down. After looking through the viewfinder for a few moments, he gestured toward a nearby boulder. "Can you sit on that?"

"Sure." Emily scrambled up and looked down at him. "Now what?"

Joe took a few photos of her smiling at him then paused. "Why don't you kind of gaze out that way?" he gestured.

"Okay," she agreed. "How do you want me to look?"

"Just like you do now."

She giggled. "You're making this too easy. Tell me if you want me to do something special."

He shook his head as he held the camera up. "Nope, you're the perfect model."

She bowed her head shyly at that remark and he clicked the shutter in rapid succession. "Perfect again."

"Joe," she protested, turning to look at him, a huge smile on her face.

He took another shot, then winked at her over the lens. "I'm keeping that one for myself."

She blushed furiously and turned toward the field. Joe followed her gaze and spotted what looked like a bunch of guys from the university playing a spontaneous game of touch football. He glanced back at Emily. A flash of anger clouded her features, and she suddenly seemed very tense.

Joe lowered the camera. "Emily? Is something wrong?"

"N-no," she said, turning and giving Joe what he thought was a forced smile. "I'm sorry. I got distracted for a minute."

He looked down the field then back at her. Her head was bowed and she was staring down. "You know what?" Her eyes met his. "I think I've taken enough shots here. Would you mind if we changed locations? I want to get some with a more urban feel to them."

"Joe, really, I'm okay. You don't have to–"

"No, I mean it." He reached out to help her off the rock. "I think we could get some really cool photos in town. Maybe some on a fire escape or against a brick wall. Kind of with an edgy look. What do you say?"

"I say you are one of the nicest guys I've ever met." She smiled as they began to walk away from the grove. "And I would love to do that."

"Good." Joe walked beside her, watching her body language carefully as they got closer to the football game. He saw her stiffen visibly as a long pass came toward them and one of the players dashed back to catch it. Joe slipped his arm around her shoulders. The guy grabbed the football and turned to them. "Hey, Hardy!" he called out.

Joe surveyed Rick Hunter, a member of the university football team, a campus leader, and if he believed what most co-eds said, one of the best looking guys at school. "Hey," he replied.

Rick turned his gaze to Emily. "Hi, Emily."

She bent her head and avoided his gaze.

"You two out on a hot date?" he asked.

"Class assignment," Joe said in a cool tone of voice.

"Uh huh," Rick responded with a grin. He tossed to football back to his teammates who were calling for it, then looked at Emily once more. "Where've you been hiding Em? Haven't seen you around much."

Joe watched as she stared up at him with a cold look in her eyes. "This surprises you?" she asked.

Rick snorted and waved at her dismissively as he jogged back toward his frat brothers.

Joe kept his arm around her as they walked the rest of the way to the van in silence. He opened the door and she climbed into the passenger seat. He deposited his camera equipment in the back and got into the driver's seat. He looked over at Emily. Her head was bent and her hands were clenched tightly into fists on her lap. He started the engine. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

She sighed. "I don't want to drag you into my problems."

"If I didn't want to help, I wouldn't have asked."

"There's nothing to help with." She sighed again. "Let's just say that Rick Hunter and I have had some issues in the past.

A muscle tensed in Joe's jaw. "Did he hurt you, Emily?"

She smiled. "Not in the way you're thinking. He never took advantage of me...physically."

Joe's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "In what way did he take advantage of you?" He tried to keep the anger he was already feeling toward Rick Hunter out of his voice, and wasn't sure he'd completely succeeded.

She turned and stared out the passenger side window, as he pulled the van out of the parking lot and onto the street. As the silence continued, Joe began to worry she wasn't going to respond. He didn't want to push her. _Trust me, Emily. Please trust me._ He glanced in her direction as he went to make a left turn, and thought he saw her tremble slightly. _You have to know by now I'd never hurt you._ She shifted in her seat and then raised her green eyes to meet his blue.

"I've only ever told Stacey about this, because it makes me feel so stupid," she confessed.

"Honey, if he took advantage of you in some way, that's not your fault. It's his." _Honey?_ _Geez, Joe. Telling Con she's your girlfriend last night. Calling her "honey" today? What on earth is wrong with you?_

She nodded. "I know. But I still feel stupid."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

She looked out the window again, and began to speak in a tone so soft, Joe strained to hear her. "It started freshman year. I was pretty naïve. I'm from Twin Lakes. It's about fifty miles from here and it's a really small town."

He nodded. "I've been there. It's a pretty place."

She smiled at him and Joe felt that familiar tightening sensation in his chest again.

"Well, I grew up fairly sheltered, I guess. My dad is an architect. My mom stayed home and raised me and my two older sisters. Anyway, when I came to Bayport, I thought I'd arrived in a sophisticated big city."

He chuckled.

"So, when this really cute guy, Rick, came up to me at a party and asked me out, I was flattered. Then I found out he was on the football team and a junior, and I couldn't figure out what he wanted with a freshman nobody like me."

_I know exactly what he wanted._ Joe felt himself seething inside.

"But, I thought dating him would be a good way to meet other people on campus, and he was so nice to me." She paused and stared outside for another long moment.

Joe pulled the van into an empty parking spot along a downtown street. "Then?" he prompted, keeping his voice gentle.

Emily sighed and the next sentence came out in a rush. "Well, to make a long story short, Rick made a bet with his frat brothers that he'd be able to 'have' me within a week. And then they decided they would need photos to prove it..." She paused for a moment to steady her voice. "So they set up cameras in the frat house to take pictures of Rick and me 'together', and then they were going to hang them on their conquest wall."

Her voice broke a tiny bit with the next sentence. "Pretty stupid of me to think he wanted a real relationship, huh?"

Joe muttered an expletive under his breath and thought that the next time he saw Rick Hunter he was going to knock him right on his ass. He turned to Emily and touched her shoulder gently. "Hey."

Her eyes, as they met his, were full of apprehension and something else, he thought. _Dread? Fear?_ He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "Rick Hunter is a first class jackass. And the next time I see him, I'm going knock his lights out for doing that to you."

She grabbed his wrist, a look of worry coming over her. "No. Please. It's over. Really. And, he knows exactly what I think of him and his stupid frat brothers." She slumped down in her seat. "This is exactly why I didn't want to tell anyone."

_Way to go, Hardy. She's pulling away again._ "I'm sorry. I won't say anything to him if you don't want me to." He sat back in his seat. "Are you sure he didn't hurt you?"

She laughed. "No. He picked the wrong girl." She smiled at Joe. "He lost the bet...big time."

He chuckled. "I'm sure that destroyed his ego." He picked up her hand and held it gently in his own. "Please don't think all of us Bayport guys are like him though. Because we're not."

She gave his hand a squeeze. "I know _you're_ not. You're one of the good guys." She stared through the front window. "The only problem was, Rick didn't let it go. He used the photos he had his frat brothers take of me and merged the negatives with those of some other girl's naked body. He put those up on the conquest wall and told everyone it was me." She sighed. "And then he put them up in the football locker room on the bulletin board."

Joe tried to keep his voice calm and even. "What happened then?"

Emily nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her hair. "Luckily another friend of mine saw the photos and ripped them off the wall. Rick said it didn't matter because he still had the negatives."

"And?" Joe's jaw was clenched and he knew his response came out harshly.

"Well, my brother-in-law is an attorney and so I told my sister what happened," she sighed. "He came down to campus and visited with the football coach. Told him if we didn't have the negatives back in an hour with a sworn statement, we would sue. Right after he called the media."

She turned to look at Joe. "The coach didn't want a scandal, so he threatened Hunter within an inch of his life...not to mention with his position on the team and his scholarship. We got the negatives."

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Unfortunately, Rick's friends were really mad at me. I mean, _really_ mad at me. They harassed me for a long time afterwards."

"What do mean by that?" Joe asked, not sure he wanted to know.

"They sent me mean letters, called me names, phoned my dorm and threatened me, followed me, spread nasty rumors, you name it." She blinked back tears. "I almost left school over it, but I just didn't want them to win."

"Don't tell me this is still going on?"

She shook her head. "No, my brother-in-law had another meeting with the coach and with the dean. It stopped right after that. It's been over a year, and I don't want to dredge it all up again, so please don't say anything to Rick."

"I won't. I promise."

"Fortunately, college kids have short memories and I don't think very many people knew about it. A lot of the football players involved have graduated, so it's really ancient history."

Joe gently rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand as he held it. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that. I wish I'd known you then. I would have helped."

She smiled. "Thanks. That means a lot to me."

He stared into her eyes, feeling himself getting lost in them again. As he started leaning in toward her, he sensed her pulling back just slightly. _Not yet, Hardy. She's feeling vulnerable. _He leaned past her and looked out the passenger side window.

"Hey, I see a fire escape. Should we go take some pictures?"

She smiled at him and he could see the relief in her eyes. "Definitely," she replied, squeezing his hand.

Joe smiled back. "Good. Let's go."


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, Leya, Killian and Virtute! Glad your theory was close, Leya, and that you enjoyed the scene with Fenton. I like putting every day stuff into a story, since it's a rare case in real life that proceeds without significant periods where nothing is happening, not to mention that they do still need to keep up with their college classes. LOL

Killian, thank you so much for saying you actually "hear their voices" when you read. That made me giddy. LOL The TV characters are fun to write, mainly because Joe is so snarky and the banter between them is great. There will be lots more of that to come!

Virtute, I did want a bit of a backstory for Emily, since I want her to be a little deeper than the usual "guest star of the week" they had on the show. And it is fun to have someone Joe will have to do some work to get (not how it usually happened, lol). But, yes, he is a sweetheart, and hopefully she'll soon realize it. ;-)

Chapter 23

"Hey," Frank called out from the living room as Joe and Emily returned to the house. "How was the photo shoot?"

Joe set his camera bag down on the game table. "Great. With Emily as my model, I have no doubt I'll be getting an 'A' on this project."

Emily's cheeks colored as she stepped in the room behind Joe. "I don't know about that."

"I do," Joe replied. "In fact, I want to get down to the darkroom and start developing these as soon as possible." He winked at her. "I'm going to have so many to choose from, it's going to take me awhile to figure out which ones to turn in for the assignment."

Emily felt her cheeks getting hotter under Joe's gaze. She smiled gratefully when Frank shut the textbook he'd been reading and stood. "Well, good. Glad you guys had fun. Did you grab lunch while you were out?"

"No, we didn't," Joe said. "I was too distracted by my subject. Are you hungry?" he asked Emily.

"Not really," she said. "I guess my mind has been a little too preoccupied over the past few days to think much about food."

"Well, my brother doesn't usually let anything distract him from his next meal." Frank chuckled. "You're something special Emily, if you rate higher than a hamburger in Joe's mind."

Joe shot Frank a look and Emily giggled. "Um, would it be okay if I made you lunch here?" she asked.

"Seriously? You'd do that?" The note of eagerness in Joe's voice was unmistakable.

"I would really love to if it's all right with you. Cooking relaxes me and it'll help me keep my mind off...everything."

"I think I can safely speak for Joe here," Frank said. "If your lunches are anything like your breakfasts, we would be thrilled to have you cook."

Emily's eyes lit up and she looked to Joe who smiled and nodded at her. "Great. I'll just be in the kitchen," she gestured as she hurried off.

Frank turned to Joe. "I've been thinking. We need to go over to Professor Ayres' house this afternoon. There may be something there that could help us piece this whole mess together."

"Something the police haven't already found?"

Frank nodded. "Yeah, I'm not talking about the kind of evidence they'd be looking for. We need information on his work. He clearly was the one to request the charmstones, not Duncan. We need to find out who he got them from and why."

"You sure his house hasn't been cleaned out yet?"

"I overheard Collig say they're still trying to locate his next of kin. The police are finished with it though."

"Did they find anything?"

"Not really. I think they were looking for more personal information. A reason why someone would want him dead. I think what we're looking for would be a work contact of some sort. A colleague."

"So you don't think that Ayres wanted the charmstones to intimidate Duncan?"

"Well somebody did, but I don't know if it was Ayres. He may have wanted them to legitimately be a part of the exhibit. Hopefully if we can find his contact in Scotland, they'll have that information." He nudged Joe's arm and pointed to his camera bag. "Hey, I think we've got a little time before lunch. Let's get started on your photos. I want to see if they're any good."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

After soaking Joe's film in the darkroom and hanging up the photos to dry, Frank and Joe followed their noses into the kitchen where Emily was mixing something in a large pot on the stove.

"That smells incredible," Joe said with a moan.

"Just some pasta carbonara," she said. "I hope you like it."

"I'm sure we will," Frank said with a smile. "Can I help you with something, Emily?"

"You can put the salad on the table," she gestured as she scooped her completed pasta dish out of the pot and onto a platter.

Frank reached for the salad bowl on the counter and Joe glared as he snatched it from him and set it on the table. Frank chuckled and went to the refrigerator for the pitcher of ice water that was always kept inside, while Joe returned to the counter for the cruet of salad dressing Emily had made.

She placed the platter on the table and stood back. "I didn't have time for bread, but it looks like your aunt has some rolls. Do you want those?"

Frank surveyed the heaping platter of pasta. "This will be plenty for me."

"I'll take a roll," Joe called over his shoulder.

"I knew you would want one," she teased, putting them into a napkin lined basket and returning to the dining area.

Frank chuckled. "Your reputation for eating precedes you, Joe."

"You forget, I had breakfast with him the other day," she said as she approached the table. "His appetite was impressive."

Joe grinned as he took the basket from her and pulled out her chair.

"Thank you, sir," Emily smiled as she sat down.

"You're welcome," Joe said in a low voice close to her ear, as he winked at her and sat down in his own chair, setting the basket of rolls between them.

"So Emily," Frank began as he heaped some pasta on his plate, "do you know if Duncan and Professor Ayres ever had any disagreements over the Scottish clans exhibit?"

"Well," she said slowly, "not any disagreements exactly." She smiled as Joe handed her the salad bowl. "More like a different perspective on the whole thing."

"What do you mean by that?" Frank wanted to know.

Emily sighed. "Duncan is very proud of his Scottish heritage, and rightly so. His family really celebrates it. They're very active in their clan organization."

Joe paused in mid pour, holding the salad dressing cruet above his plate. "Clan organization?"

"Yes, all the clans are still organized today, with a chief and everything." She smiled. "They're not out on the battlefield slicing each other with their claymores anymore, but they still have festivals and celebrations and dress in their traditional plaid. It's a fiercely proud tradition." She reached for her water glass. "In fact, I think Duncan's grandfather was the chief of the MacLean clan."

"Really? They have a chief?" Frank gestured to Joe to pass him the salad dressing.

"Yep, like I said, they're very proud of their heritage and they want it to continue."

"So how is Duncan's view of the clan different from the professor's?" Joe asked.

"Well, the professor wanted to present the exhibit in a more scholarly fashion. You know, the good, the bad and the ugly."

Frank chuckled as he twirled his fettuccine on his fork. "And, I'm guessing Duncan didn't want any of 'the bad' or 'the ugly' on display."

"Exactly." She sighed. "I thought they'd worked it all out though. Of course with what happened, I'm not sure."

"Do you think Duncan could have murdered the professor?" Joe asked.

Emily shook her head. "No. I don't think one exhibit at a university museum in a college town would be worth that to him. Duncan has bigger fish to fry. When he's finished with his year here, he's moving on to New York. He has an appointment with the Met for two years. I can't see him jeopardizing that."

Frank nodded. "Well, we still need to do some more investigating. We need to find out where Ayres got those charmstones."

"Do you mind if my brother and I go to the professor's house after lunch? Will you be okay?" Joe asked.

"I'll be fine." She smiled. "I feel very safe here. And I have some studying to do. I've really been slacking in that department."

"Understandable," he replied. "We won't be long, I promise." Joe reached for the platter of pasta. "But before we do that, I have to tell you that this is the best stuff I've eaten in a long time." He shoveled another heaping serving on his plate. "Awesome."

Emily blushed. "I'm glad you like it. It's super easy to make."

"You need to leave the recipe for our Aunt Gertrude," Frank said.

"Yeah, she would never have thought to put bacon in pasta." Joe inhaled a large mouthful. "That is genius."

Emily giggled. "It's a pretty old recipe."

"Well, Aunt Gertrude's pretty old, but it's not in her repertoire."

"Aunt Gertrude is not very exotic," Frank said with a grin. "She's solidly meat and potatoes."

"Pasta carbonara is exotic?" Emily seemed surprised.

"An eggroll is exotic to Aunt Gertrude," Frank said.

"She sounds like quite the character," Emily smiled. "I can't wait to meet her."

Joe choked on his pasta. "Meet her?"

Frank chuckled. "That should be fun."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Frank and Joe pulled up to Professor Ayres' small bungalow on a quiet, tree lined street just off campus. They got out of the van and paused on the sidewalk.

"The crime tape is gone," Joe commented.

"Yeah. And when I spoke to Collig about the place he said they didn't find much of any interest."

"What did they take?"

"Personal stuff. Appointment books, things like that."

"What makes you think there's anything here we can use."

Frank shook his head. "Nothing in particular. Just that brick wall we keep hitting. We need to bust through it."

"Yeah." Joe started up the walk. "Let's get going." He paused as he reached Professor Ayres' front door. "Frank? Does this lock look like it's been jimmied open?"

Frank bounded up the porch steps and stood next to his brother. "Yeah, it does."

"Not usually Collig's style," Joe commented as Frank reached into his pocket for a handkerchief he kept there for just this purpose.

"No, it's not." Frank put his covered hand to the doorknob and the door easily pushed open without having to turn it. The brothers exchanged glances and Joe reached for a sturdy log from the wood box next to the door.

"One, two, three," Frank mouthed and the brothers burst through the door, Joe brandishing the log in both hands in a position where he could easily strike an intruder.

They were met with silence.

Frank glanced around the living room. Furniture had been upended, and books and papers were scattered everywhere. He turned to Joe. "I think I know where Emily's intruder went after he left her house last night."

Joe lowered the log. "Yeah."

Frank motioned to his brother. "Let's check the rest of the house." He walked over to the fireplace, grabbed an iron poker and then gestured for Joe to follow him down the hallway. They quickly went through the remaining two bedrooms, a bathroom and the kitchen before returning to the living room.

Joe dropped the log onto the fireplace hearth. "I take it we now begin our usual task of looking through piles of paper trying to find...what?"

Frank sighed and moved towards the professor's desk. "I wish I knew. All I can say is I hope I know it when I see it."

"Yeah, you and Justice Potter Stewart," Joe said, reaching for a file folder on the floor. "But he was talking about pornography, not this needle in a haystack."

Frank stared at his brother. "Were you actually paying attention in American Government?"

Joe shrugged. "Don't look so surprised. It happens."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily quickly cleaned up the dishes in the Hardys' kitchen and then sighed. She was so tired. Exhausted was more like it. Mentally and physically. Maybe if she could just lie down for a few minutes while Frank and Joe were at the police station.

She headed up the staircase and paused, looking into the guestroom. She'd made the bed that morning, and really didn't want to tear it apart again. Not with all the lace and pillows she'd had to arrange on top of it.

She glanced across the hall into Joe's room. His bed wasn't made. She bit her lip and hesitated for only a moment, then entered his room and climbed under the covers, letting out a deep sigh of satisfaction as she sank into his pillow. His scent surrounded her, leaving her feeling safe and warm and drowsy. She decided not to analyze that for the moment, the lure of sleep was just too strong to resist. Her last thoughts before she drifted off completely were of Joe holding her tightly in his arms.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"Joe, I think I might have something." Frank moved away from Professor Ayres bookshelf, holding an open volume in his hands.

"Oh, yeah, what?"

"A name." He came over to where Joe was sitting on the edge of the professor's desk, searching through papers and pointed toward a notation on the inside cover of the book.

"To Ron, with my deepest regards, Iain Campbell." Joe looked up at his brother. "So?"

"So, we're looking for someone connected with clan Campbell that could have supplied Professor Ayres with the charmstones. This might just be the guy."

Joe stood. "Okay, then let's see what else we can find around here."

"A phone number or address would be ideal."

"And since when do we ever have 'ideal' investigations?" Joe began rummaging through a desk drawer while Frank reached for an accordion file, its contents strewn across the floor. He picked up a small scrap of paper and smiled.

"Since today."

Joe turned around and Frank held up the paper with the name "Iain Campbell" scrawled across it and a phone number underneath.

Frank moved toward the desk, fished out his handkerchief again, and reached for the telephone. Picking up the receiver he grinned. "There's a dial tone."

"Well, hurry then," Joe demanded. "What are you waiting for?"

Frank quickly dialed the number. "Hello? May I speak with Iain Campbell, please?" He turned to Joe and nodded with a smile. "My name is Frank Hardy and I'm an investigator with the Bayport Police Department in the United States. I need some information about some charmstones that were sent to the museum here or to a Professor Ron Ayres."

"What's he saying?" Joe whispered.

Frank shook his head and then made a writing motion with his hands. Joe hurriedly reached for the small notebook and pen in his back pocket and laid it on the desk. Frank took the pen and began scribbling furiously.

"I see," Frank began. "So did Professor Ayres request the charmstones for the exhibit? He did. And where were they supposed to be sent? To his home? Why not the museum? I understand. And when were they shipped? Really? And were invoices sent with them?" Frank noted some more information. "Three charmstones? Okay. Um, no. No problems with them. Yes, I believe the museum is still planning to go on with the exhibit. Of course. And, may I call you again if I have more questions? Thank you, sir. Yes, you too. Goodbye." Frank hung up the phone.

"So, what does he know?" Joe asked anxiously.

"Not much more than we do. Professor Ayres requested three additional charmstones because he thought they were a vital part of clan legend. Duncan thought they were 'bewitched' and didn't want them. Mr. Campbell was a colleague of the professor's when Ayres worked in Scotland. He also agreed that they should be part of the exhibit."

"Let me guess," Joe interrupted. "Campbell had them sent here to Ayres' home so Duncan wouldn't find out about them and Ayres was going to try to talk Duncan into putting them in the exhibit when the time came."

"Bingo," Frank said. "Nothing sinister about it."

Joe began pacing back and forth. "But what about the charmstone that turned up here that was reported stolen? The one we found in Emily's office? How the heck did that get here? And as for the others, someone else obviously knows Ayres had them, took them, and is now using them to their advantage to try and scare Duncan for some reason."

"But who?"

Joe shook his head. "We're back to square one. We still know nothing. Not to mention, we've only seen two charmstones. Where are the others?"

Frank sighed. "There's another thing we need to put on our list. 'Find missing charmstones.'"

Joe looked around the room. "You think they might be here?"

"They might," Frank admitted. "But we can't search enough to disturb stuff. This is a crime scene again. And, I know we've tried not to contaminate it, but..."

"Yeah," Joe agreed. "Let's give Collig the heads-up on what we're looking for. Maybe he'll find them when he comes out here." Joe picked up the phone to dial the chief. "After he chews us out for entering the house."

"Well, we never would have known what happened here if we hadn't come in."

"Yeah, this is Joe Hardy," he said into the receiver. "I'm calling to report a break-in at the house on 355 Danforth Lane. Yeah. Could you tell the Chief that my brother and I were doing some investigating on the Bayport Museum case when we noticed it. Yes. Let him know that we're following up on a lead and if he needs to talk to us, he can call us at home. No, I'd rather not wait to speak with him now. Oh, I'm positive. Thank you. Bye."

He hung up and turned to his brother. "That buys us a little time. Let's get out of here."

Frank glanced at his watch. "Yeah. Let's head back home and pick Dad's brain about it. He should be back from the police station by now."

"Let's hope he had more luck digging up information than we did."

"Well, I asked him to look more closely into Duncan's background. Maybe he's turned up something that will give us a clue."

Joe sighed. "I'm really not looking forward to going home and telling Emily we don't have a lead yet."

Frank grinned. "Don't worry, you're still her hero, Joe. And we will catch this guy." His mouth pressed into a thin line. "Because now, he's really starting to tick me off."


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, Leya and Virtute! I really appreciate it! Leya, I'm interested to see if your theories play out. Let me know. I'm glad you like the bantering...there will be lots of it in the next chapter. Virtute, thank you for taking the time to sign-in! Check your PM box, too. LOL This chapter is a short bit of fluff before they plunge back into the mystery. Just because I like fluff. LOL Next chapter has more clues and a Frank and Joe stake-out, complete with snark. Thanks for reading, everyone!

Chapter 24

Joe slammed the door to the van as he exited from the passenger side. "This is ridiculous, Frank. Why can't we find anything? Someone has been harassing Emily at work, broken into her home, might have killed her if we hadn't gotten there on time, and not only is he completely eluding the cops and us, but we have no clues."

"I know," Frank agreed. "If we can just find out what he's after, that will probably lead us straight to him."

Joe sighed. "I hate to keep pushing her about this. It's really stressing her out."

"She's the only link we have to this guy," Frank reminded him. "And I don't think he's going to give up. She has something he wants."

"Yeah," Joe agreed as he unlocked the front door to the Hardy home. "I just now feel like she's starting to trust me. I still don't know if I have a chance with her, but I'm worried this case will ruin it."

"Saving her life will ruin it?" Frank laughed. "I don't think so. She's coming around."

Joe shook his head. "I don't know. She sort of shot me down again today." He paused in the foyer. "It seems a little too quiet in here."

"Emily's probably in the kitchen, studying," Frank said, leading the way. He stopped short at the entrance to the room. "Nope."

Joe glanced in the living room again, and not spotting her, entered Fenton's office. Not finding her there, he returned to the hallway. "Emily?" he called.

"Not in the basement either," Frank said.

Joe bounded up the steps two at time and ran into the guest room. The bed was made and there was no sign of Emily. Panic started rising in his throat. _They got her. They followed us and they got her. Damn it, how could I have been so stupid?_

His internal monologue was interrupted by Frank, who had a grin on his face. He beckoned his brother with his finger, and pointed to Joe's bedroom. Joe walked across the hall and peered in, his face relaxing into a smile. Emily was curled on her side, fast asleep in his bed, her long, dark, hair splayed across his pillow.

"Don't tell me you're not getting anywhere with her," Frank whispered. "She's sleeping in your bed."

Joe grinned at him. "_She's_ in my bed, but I'm not with her."

"Doesn't matter," Frank assured him. "She could have slept in the guest room, she could have slept on the couch, she could have slept in _my_ bed. She didn't."

He shrugged. "She's wiped out. This whole thing has her terrified."

"Yeah, you're right. It does." He put his arm on his brother's shoulder. "She wanted comfort and she wanted to feel safe. She wanted you." He grinned. "It won't be long, bro."

"Well, maybe I should just climb in there with her and see what happens," Joe teased.

Frank rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't recommend that."

Joe punched Frank lightly in the arm. "I'm just kidding. I'll sit in here with her while she sleeps though. Maybe go over some of the theories in my notebook."

"Sounds good," Frank agreed. "I'll be in my room. I'm going to look over those still photos Steve developed for me from the museum cameras. See if anything pops in my head."

"Come get me if you need help."

Frank nodded and headed off down the hall while Joe stepped into his bedroom. He paused by the edge of his bed and stared down at Emily. _She's so beautiful._ He reached out, unable to resist gently touching the strands of her hair resting on his pillow. _It feels like silk. _

He forced himself to let go and walked across the room to get the wooden chair in front of his desk. Quietly, so he wouldn't wake her, he set it next to his bed. He reached for the spiral notebook on his nightstand and flipped it open, looking at the possible theories he'd written down on the case, determined to go over each one with a fine tooth comb until he could figure out what on earth he'd been overlooking.

Time and time again, he found his gaze moving toward Emily, unable to focus on what he was supposed to be doing. Her eyelashes were so thick and dark. Her cheekbones were incredibly delicate. And her lips. Joe felt the warmth rising within him as he stared at her lips. He felt himself leaning closer to her, the temptation to kiss her almost overwhelming. He shook himself and pulled back, banging the wooden chair slightly against the floor as he did. He watched as Emily's brow furrowed in her sleep and her mouth puckered a bit at the disturbance. Joe let out a shaky breath. _Geez, baby, you're killing me_.

He settled himself back in his chair and turned a page in his notebook when Emily whimpered. Looking down at her, he could see the distress on her face even while she slept. She tossed her head restlessly from side to side and began to kick at the covers. Joe set his notebook on the floor and moved over to sit on the edge of the bed. She started thrashing violently and the whimpers turned into cries. "No, stop!"

OOO

He had her and he wasn't letting go this time. Emily knew that for sure. She struggled as hard as she could. Something was twisted around her legs and she couldn't move. She couldn't see the man's face either, but she could hear his voice. _I want it._ Now she knew she was fighting for her life. She tried to turn away, tried to run, but he seemed to be everywhere. Grabbing at her, holding her arms down, hurting her. She knew she was screaming. Why couldn't anyone hear her?

OOO

"Emily?" Joe passed his hand over her brow, trying to calm her without awakening her. "Em, it's okay, you're just having a bad dream." He watched as she began to strike out in earnest, thrashing to escape from underneath the covers. "Emily, shh," Joe said, as he leaned forward and pulled her into his embrace. "Sshh, it's okay, honey. I've got you." He rocked her back and forth as she struggled against him, fighting the invisible enemy in her nightmare.

OOO

Emily's eyes flew open and she felt panic. _He's coming to get me. He's after me. I need to get away. I need to get away, now! _She struck at the male chest in front of her, the strong arms surrounding her. "Please," she whimpered. "Please don't hurt me."

"Emily, it's me, Joe." He hugged her tightly. "You're having a bad dream, sweetheart."

_Joe?_ She struggled to bring her brain back to the present. _Joe. _It came back in rush. Her body went limp and she felt him holding her gently, not trying to kill her like the madman in her nightmare. Relief washed over her and she couldn't move. Couldn't speak. She just wanted to stay right where she was. Her arms reached out and she clung to him, as her body trembled in the aftermath of an adrenaline rush. He rocked her and stroked her hair, murmuring soothing words of comfort. She looked up at him and he smiled.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded and slowly sat up, forcing herself away from him. "I'm sorry. I guess I was having a nightmare."

"No apology necessary," he assured her. "Was it about last night?"

"Yes," she whispered. "I-I couldn't get away from him. It was awful."

"It's your mind's way of trying to deal with the trauma," he explained.

"Why didn't I have any bad dreams last night?" she wondered. "I think I was more traumatized then."

"You were also heavily medicated, remember?"

"Yeah, you're right." She ran her hands up and down her arms and looked around the room. Joe's room. Joe's bed. It all came back to her and she blushed furiously.

"I'm sorry. I was just going to lie down for a minute and I'd made the bed in the guest room already. It had so many pillows and things on it, I didn't want to take it apart again. I didn't mean for you to come home and find me here. I wasn't snooping around your room or anything, I was just so tired..." Her words tumbled out on top of each other and Joe grinned.

"It's okay," he said. "It isn't everyday a man comes home and finds a beautiful woman asleep in his bed. I like it."

She ducked her head in embarrassment.

Joe chuckled and took her hand. "I mean it. It's fine. I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to do it."

"Really?"

"Really." Joe squeezed her hand in his. "Listen, Emily. I don't know exactly how to say this, but..." He sighed and looked into her eyes. "I have felt something between us since we first met in the museum and I know you have, too."

She opened her mouth to speak, and he held up his hand. "I also know that you feel like you can't get involved in any kind of personal relationship because of school and work." He reached for her other hand. "Can we just not worry about all the complications for now and see what this might be?"

"What do mean?"

"I mean, can you just let your guard down a little around me? I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not Rick. I have no hidden agenda. I just like being with you." He smiled at her. "I'm not trying to force anything on you either. I guess I'm just saying...can we see what happens if we don't try and stop it?"

Emily paused and bit her lip. "I'd like that. But, I'll be honest with you…I'm scared. "

"Me, too." He squeezed her hands. "So do we have a deal? No more roadblocks?"

"No more."

"Good." He brushed a stray strand of her hair over her shoulder. "Listen, why don't you try and get some more sleep. I know you're still exhausted."

"I'm almost afraid to sleep now. What if I have another nightmare?"

"Then I'll be here to wake you up," he said. "In fact, I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay right beside you while you sleep."

She lay back down on the pillows while Joe tucked the covers around her. He bent down and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. "Rest. Nothing can hurt you while I'm here. I promise."

She sighed, feeling drowsy and content. Joe moved back to his wooden chair. Emily held out her hand. He smiled and took it gently in his own while she drifted back to sleep, a tiny smile turning up the corners of her mouth.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: **Thank you for the reviews, Leya and Virtute! And yes, Frank is the more perceptive one at the moment. He'll have his chance at befuddlement over a woman in a future story. LOL For now, we're back to the detective work. Thanks again to all who are reading!

Chapter 25

"Anybody home?" Fenton Hardy called as he stepped through the front door of his house that evening. "I've got take-out."

He walked into the kitchen, setting a cardboard tub of fried chicken and several containers of side dishes on the table as Frank, Joe and Emily appeared at the swinging door.

"Oh, there you are," Fenton said with a smile. "Is anyone hungry?"

"You don't have to ask me twice," Joe said with a grin as he beckoned to Emily and pulled out a chair for her.

"Well, that's a given," Fenton said, grabbing some paper plates off the kitchen counter.

"Thank you, Mr. Hardy," Emily spoke up. "This is really nice of you."

"It's my pleasure." Fenton offered her the mashed potatoes. "And my name is Fenton."

"Okay. Then thank you, Fenton," she replied, passing the potatoes to Joe who spooned out a large helping on his plate.

"It's the least I can do after the wonderful breakfast you made for us this morning."

"And lunch," Joe piped up. "You missed her lunch, Dad. It was amazing."

"Oh, I'm sorry I wasn't here for that." He took the coleslaw from Frank. "I have no doubt it was vastly superior to the two stale donuts and the six hour old cup of coffee I had in Collig's office."

Frank chuckled. "Did you learn anything down there, Dad?"

"Well, I'm not sure. I found out some more background information on Duncan. I don't know if it'll help you or not. I brought home some copies of his dossier from Scotland. I also found out that the museum security team working there now were all hired within the past year. The dean had some problems with the last security company and these guys are all relatively new."

"Did you check into the background of both the old and new teams?" Frank asked.

"Yes, the guys who used to work there have all been reassigned to other places. Some are still local and some have moved. I did a background check on Mitch, the new head of security. He has quite an impressive résumé. He's worked personal security detail for some famous names, as well as for some impressive institutions. The Smithsonian, for one."

Joe raised his eyebrows. "That's interesting. Maybe that's why he's been complaining about how lax things are around the Bayport museum."

"If he's worked for such important places then why take a job here?" Frank wondered.

"He moved back home to take care of his mother. She has dementia and arthritis and she's in a wheelchair. He's helping her out now so she doesn't have to go into a nursing home," Fenton explained.

"That makes sense." Frank reached for another piece of chicken.

"I haven't really had a chance to look over most of the papers I picked up. Collig just handed me a bunch of files. Do you guys want to tackle them tonight?"

"Definitely," Frank said. "We went over to Ayres' house this afternoon, Dad. It was ransacked."

Emily's eyes went wide. "What?"

Joe touched her gently on the arm. "It's okay, Em. Maybe the guy who did it is finally convinced you don't have what he wants, so he thinks someone else might."

Emily's hand shook as she reached for her glass. "Did it look the same as my house?"

"Yeah," Joe said. "He was clearly looking for paper at Ayres, too."

"I overheard Collig say he was sending a car out there. Your names didn't come up though." He looked pointedly at his sons.

"I think Collig avoids saying our names as much as possible," Joe said with a grin.

Fenton laughed heartily. "I'm sure that's true, but he does appreciate your help, boys. He told me that himself this afternoon."

Joe put one hand behind his ear. "Wow, did you hear that? It was the sound of hell freezing over."

Frank chuckled as he wiped his hands on his napkin. "Pretty close to it." He looked at his father. "Hey, Dad, if it's all right with you, I'd like to get started on those papers."

"Sure, son. They're in the living room on the table."

"Me, too." Joe stood then looked down at Emily. "You coming?"

"Um, I think I'll just stay here and clean up if that's okay."

"Are you all right?" Joe's voice was full of concern.

"I'm a little achy," she admitted with a smile. "I must have pulled more muscles than I thought fighting off Mr. Bad Guy last night."

Joe frowned. "Maybe we should have a doctor look at you again."

"No, really, I'm fine." She stood and began gathering up the paper plates. "I guess I'm just feeling a little overwhelmed by all of this."

"That's completely normal, Emily," Fenton assured her. "Why don't you go upstairs and take a hot bath. The guest bathroom has a big tub and my sister has it stocked with lots of things girls like."

"That does sound nice," she admitted. "I don't want to be any trouble though."

"How is taking a bath trouble?" Joe asked her with a grin. "Come on, I'll take you up there."

"Now that might be trouble," Frank teased.

Joe shot him a look as he took Emily's hand to walk her to the stairs.

"Can I clean up first? After all, your dad did bring us dinner."

"Frank will take care of that," Joe returned, with another glare in his brother's direction as he exited the room.

Fenton chuckled and turned to his oldest son. "Something going on between Emily and Joe?"

"Yeah," Frank said. "Although I'm not sure she realizes it yet."

Fenton nodded then leaned back in his chair. "She will soon. Very few women are able to resist the Hardy charm."

Frank burst out laughing. "Dad, you sound like Joe."

"Where do you think he gets it from? The Hardy charm, I mean." Fenton grinned as he carried the paper plates to the kitchen trash. "And, speaking of women falling under the spell...have you talked to Nancy Drew lately?"

Frank stood hurriedly. "I think I'd better get working on those papers, Dad. We need a break in this case. Fast."

Fenton chuckled as he watched his son exit the room. "Fight it all you want son...it's only a matter of time," he said to himself.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"Is she okay?" Fenton asked Joe as he came downstairs and entered the living room.

"Yeah, she's just wiped out." Joe sat on the couch and reached for some of the papers Frank was shuffling though.

"Well, with all that's happened to her over the past couple of weeks I'm surprised she's functioning at all."

"She's terrified, Dad." Joe took the reports Frank handed him. "She's trying hard to hide it, but I can tell."

"Then let's find some answers so she doesn't need to worry anymore." Fenton looked at Frank. "Anything in that info from Scotland catch your eye?"

"Yeah," Frank said slowly. "Did you see the list of security team members for the museum where Ayres worked while he was a guest professor in Scotland?"

Joe leaned over his shoulder and read the list of names. "Mitchell Kincaid." He exchanged looks with Frank. "Who's now the head of security for the Bayport museum."

"That might not mean anything," Fenton cautioned.

"Or it could mean everything," Frank said. "Mitch would have known Ayres."

"Which means he could have known about the charmstones," Joe interjected.

"And he could be using them now to scare Duncan," Frank continued.

"Why would he do that?" Fenton asked, playing devil's advocate.

Frank stood and began to pace. "I don't know. But it gives us a place to start. A connection we didn't have before."

"He could have killed Ayres," Joe added. "He has the build and strength for it."

"Now that is leaping to a huge conclusion," Fenton cautioned. "You don't have one shred of evidence against this guy."

"Not yet," Joe said with a grin. "But we're going to find it if it's there. He may even have the two missing charmstones. That would be evidence."

"Not enough to convict him of murder, but you should definitely look at him more thoroughly." Fenton picked up the report Frank had been reading and skimmed it. "I'll do what I can from my end. Make some phone calls and try to dig into Mitch Kincaid's background a little more."

"I think we need to follow him." Joe looked at his watch. "His museum shift ends at eight tonight. We have just enough time to get over there and see where he goes afterwards."

"Sounds like a plan," Frank agreed.

"I hope it sounds like a break in the case," Joe said as he moved to leave the room. "Because we seriously need one."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Frank pulled the van quietly into the museum parking lot and turned off the engine and lights. Joe peered through binoculars out the passenger side window. "There it is. There's Mitch's car."

"I wish this parking lot was better lit," Frank grumbled. "I can hardly see a thing."

"Here he comes." Joe adjusted his binoculars. "Wow, we barely made it on time."

They watched as Mitch climbed into his sedan and exited the parking lot. Frank waited for thirty seconds then started his engine and began to follow him down the street. "He doesn't know what kind of car we drive, does he?"

Joe shook his head. "No way he could unless he followed us or checked with campus security to see if we have a permit. We've never parked in this lot before. It's only for 'A' stickers."

Frank squinted as he peered through the front window. "It looks like he's pulling into the Community Center."

"Yeah." Joe moved forward slightly. "What on earth would he be doing here at this time of night?"

"Exercising, maybe?"

They watched as Mitch entered through the main doors of the building.

"He wasn't carrying anything like a duffle bag for workout clothes," Joe commented.

"Maybe he has a locker and keeps them in there."

Joe sighed. "That means we could be here awhile." He drummed his fingers on the dashboard and began singing. Frank turned and looked at him.

"Do you mind?"

Joe grinned. "Not at all. I take requests." He slapped out a staccato beat. "Anything you want to hear?"

"Yeah, how about something from Puccini?"

"Don't know them. Are they a new group?" Joe teased.

Frank shook his head and stared out the front window. "I think that's Mitch coming out. He has someone with him."

Joe held up the binoculars and watched as Mitch pushed an elderly woman in a wheel chair to his car. "Think that's his mother? And what would she be doing at the Community Center?"

"They have an adult daycare program here. I wonder if she's part of it. Here, let me see." Frank reached for the binoculars and Joe coughed.

"Do you mind? I'd rather not be choked." He pulled the strap over his head then handed them to his brother.

"Sorry." Frank held the glasses up to his eyes and adjusted the focus. "That must be her. Remember, Dad told us that Mitch came back to Bayport because she was sick and needed help."

Joe sighed. "Yeah."

"Well, it looks like that's what he's doing. Helping his mom."

Joe sank into his seat, dejected. "Not exactly what I was hoping for."

"Let's just see where he goes next." Frank pulled out slowly behind Mitch's car as it entered the main roadway.

They traveled in silence for the next couple of miles then watched as Mitch turned into a fast food restaurant. As he pulled his car into the drive-thru lane, Joe looked at his brother.

"I'm going in for a shake, you want something?"

"The hell you are," Frank protested as he parked the van on the other side of the building.

Joe gestured towards the drive-thru. "Frank, there are four cars ahead of him. I can get the shake and be back before he even gives them his order. He'll never see me."

"No."

"You are such a hard ass."

"I'm trying to be a professional. What if Mitch suddenly pulls out of the drive-thru and takes off? Did you ever think of that?"

Joe waved his hand dismissively. "He has his eighty year old mother in the car. He's going to burn rubber in that ancient Oldsmobile and peel out of here without getting her food? Yeah, right."

"A professional detective stays with the suspect and does not get distracted. Especially by something stupid like a milkshake."

Joe reached over and shoved his brother forward slightly in the driver's seat.

"What are you doing?" Frank demanded.

"Looking for the metal pole you must have rammed up your–"

"All right, that's enough," Frank interrupted. "Look, he's already giving his order.

"And I could have been back by now with mine," Joe grumbled.

"We have work to do."

"You're no fun."

Frank ignored him as he exited the parking space and followed Mitch along the main road again. After another few miles, Mitch turned onto a residential side street. Frank hung back and allowed him to gain some distance. "I wish there was more traffic here."

"I don't think he's noticed us."

Mitch made a right turn into a driveway of a small boxy home built during the post-war housing boom of the nineteen-fifties. Frank drove past him and circled the block, stopping the van several houses away from Mitch's, across the street and under a large overhanging willow tree.

Joe took the binoculars and held them up to his eyes again. "He's getting something out of the trunk. Never mind, it's the wheelchair."

They watched as the security guard opened the wheelchair, then lifted his mother from the passenger side of the car and sat her in it. He pushed her up the homemade wooden ramp to the front door and entered the home.

Joe put down the binoculars. "Well, I guess that's that."

"I wouldn't be so quick to take him off the suspect list just yet."

"Why not? He's doing what he said he came to Bayport to do. He has no idea he's being tailed." He gestured towards Mitch's car. "There's nothing remotely suspicious about his behavior."

"That doesn't mean anything. He could still have the charmstones. He could still be trying to scare Duncan. This doesn't prove anything."

"So basically we've done nothing but hit another brick wall."

"For now." Frank settled back in his seat. "Let's watch the house for another half hour or so just to make sure."

Joe turned to look at his brother. "You know what I wish?"

"What?"

"I wish I had a milkshake."

"I'm never going on another stake-out with you again."

Joe grinned. "Suits me fine. You stay on Mitch's tail for the next few days and I follow up on all the other leads."

Frank glared at him then held up his hands over his ears as Joe began banging his fingers on the dashboard again.

"So, tell me about this group Puccini. What do they sing?"


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: **Thank you so much for the feedback, Leya and Virtute! Yeah, they did rely heavily on the Frank/Nancy thing in the show, but she won't show up in this story. LOL I also like hearing your theories, Leya, since that's my favorite thing to do as a reader...guess the culprit. Virtute, I'm glad you liked the Fenton interaction, because he is featured heavily in this story. A little more fluff in this chapter while Joe takes a side trip and gets roped into playing Barbies, and then some serious investigating in the next with Frank and Fenton as partners...because I love seeing him work with his sons. And he's just so darn good. LOL Thanks for reading!

Chapter 26

Emily finished making the bed in the Hardys' guestroom the next morning then reached into her purse for her pocket datebook. She thumbed through it and sighed. _Oh geez, I totally forgot what day it was._

She dressed quickly in her favorite pair of jeans and a lightweight sweater and hurried across the hall to Joe's bedroom. His door was open and she rapped lightly on it as she stepped inside. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah, come on in."

She entered the room and stopped short. Joe was standing near his closet, his back to her, wearing only a pair of faded jeans slung low on his hips. He turned around and she gulped. She couldn't help but stare at the tight bands of well-defined muscles on his abdomen and chest. _Put your eyes back in your head, Emily. Before he notices you're ogling him. _

A slow, sexy grin spread over Joe's face.

_He noticed. _She forced herself to look in his eyes. "I, um, didn't know you weren't dressed. I'm sorry." She felt the heat creeping over her cheeks. _Great. Now I'm blushing. Or I'm having a hot flash, because the temperature in this room must be well over a hundred degrees right now._

"It's okay," Joe said as he turned back toward his closet and reached for a long-sleeved t-shirt. "Guys are allowed to walk around without their shirts on, right? It's not illegal."

_Well, it should be with that body. _Emily couldn't resist checking him out from behind. _Wow...just wow. And now I'm reduced to speaking in monosyllables. _

She forced herself to walk over to the bulletin board hanging on the wall over his desk. _Say something intelligent about something on here. Something more than a grunt would be preferable. _She cleared her throat. "Um, is this a ribbon for surfing? I didn't even know you could really surf on our beaches."

Joe came up behind her holding his t-shirt in his hand. "I got that one in Hawaii. Frank's the real surfer, though. He was in a pro-level competition there."

"He was?" Emily turned and found herself face to face with Joe's chest. _Joe's rock hard, incredibly muscular, sexiest thing I've seen in a long time, chest. _She looked down at the floor, not trusting the expression on her face. "That's really cool."

"Yeah," Joe said, smiling at her obvious distress. "We solved a case while we were there, too."

"Great," Emily squeaked out as she watched Joe put his arms through his t-shirt, then pull it over his head. _Biceps. I really, really like his biceps._

"Was there something you wanted to tell me?"

"Huh?" She looked up at him, puzzled.

Joe flashed her that sexy smile again. "When you came in here? Was there something you wanted to tell me?"

"Oh, um, yes." Emily took a deep breath and tried not to seem flustered. "I just realized it's the third Sunday of the month and my family always gets together on that day at my parents' house. It's kind of a big thing. I really can't miss it. So, I wanted you to know that I need to head up to Twin Lakes today."

"Oh." Joe looked disappointed. "I see. Um, yeah, sure."

"Will you go with me?"

"What?"

She gave him a little smile. "I wanted to know if you'd like to come with me."

"Really? You want me to meet your family?"

"Yes, if you want to." She sighed and tried to ignore the nervous sensation of butterflies in her stomach. _Make that bats. Bats with a huge wingspan. _

"I'd like that," Joe said softly. "Thank you for asking me."

She nodded.

"Not that I would have let you go up there alone, but thanks for asking me. It makes it easier."

Emily's head shot up and he winked at her.

Her eyes narrowed. "Well actually, I was going to ask Frank, but he's still in the shower, so I didn't really have any other choice except to ask you, because I need to leave in ten minutes."

"What?" Joe's mouth hung open.

Emily giggled as she watched Joe's expression change from disbelief to understanding the second he realized she'd only been teasing him. He reached out and grabbed her to him. "You're going to pay for that." He held both of her arms in one hand and began tickling her with the other. Her knees buckled as she squealed and gasped.

"Joe, don't! I'm way too ticklish." She squirmed and bent down, pulling them both to the floor as she struggled to get at least one of her arms out of his strong grip. "Joe!"

He laughed and loosened his fingers and Emily quickly yanked her hands away and reached for his ribs. Joe laughed harder as the tickling sensation overwhelmed him and he fell backwards pulling her on top of him. His foot hit the dresser and knocked over a stack of old board games piled haphazardly on top of it, sending dice and paper money raining down on them. "Em, honey, give me a break!" he gasped.

"You can dish it out, but you can't take it Hardy? Is that the deal?"

Joe took hold of her upper arms and forced them gently behind her back. She collapsed on his chest, unable to hold herself up. She lifted her head just inches from his and noticed they were both breathing heavily_. From the tickling or from something else?_ She caught the intense look in Joe's eyes and her breath hitched. He slid his hand up behind her neck and began to gently pull her closer. His eyes moved to her lips and Emily felt a flutter of excitement in her stomach. She nervously ran her tongue over her bottom lip and Joe groaned, the desire on his face more than evident to her now. She slowly closed her eyes as he brought his mouth up to hers.

"Is everything okay in here? I heard a huge crash downstairs." Fenton Hardy appeared at the door of Joe's room.

Emily's eyes snapped open as she looked to Mr. Hardy, then back at his son. Realizing they were both on the floor and she was straddling Joe, she jumped backwards, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I, uh, didn't mean to interrupt," Fenton said, as he ducked his head and turned to leave. Instead, he ran into Frank.

"You guys okay?"

Joe dropped his head back on the floor and stared up at the ceiling. "I don't believe this."

Emily was scrambling to stand up. "Oh, you're not interrupting. We just, um, knocked over some board games. Sorry if the noise bothered you." She peered over Fenton's shoulder to see Frank choking with silent laughter.

"No, it didn't. I only wanted to make sure you were okay." Fenton turned to go. "I'll be heading back to my office. I have work to do and Callie should be here in a few minutes."

"Yeah, um, I actually need to call my parents and tell them we're coming, Joe." Emily slipped past Fenton and Frank and hurried downstairs to use the kitchen phone.

Joe turned his head to look at his brother and dad from his position on the floor. "I hate you both."

"Sorry, son," Fenton apologized, trying to hold back the laughter. "But really, this could have been worse."

"Oh, yeah? How? Because right now I can't imagine it being any worse."

"Just be thankful it wasn't your Aunt Gertrude who walked in on you."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe pulled Emily's little red Honda Civic into the driveway of her parents' house, already crowded with vehicles. He walked around to the passenger side and opened her door for her. As she stepped out, he paused to look at her home.

"Wow, this is a really cool house."

"You think so?" Emily smiled. "My dad loves it. He's an architect, so he's really into unique construction. This one was built in the nineteen-twenties. It's the storybook style of architecture that was really popular then, so it makes for a fun home." She took his hand and led him up the cobblestone walkway to the arched front door. "Lots of great nooks and crannies and cozy hiding places. I loved it when I was little."

"Sounds like it might be kind of fun now, too," he said with a wicked grin.

Before Emily could reply, the front door flew open and two strikingly beautiful young women in their twenties, one of them pregnant, came toward them. The one who wasn't expecting, pulled Emily into a tight embrace.

"Oh my gosh, we've been so worried about you ever since we heard what happened at the museum. Are you all right?"

Emily laughed and hugged the girl, whom Joe assumed was her sister, closely. "I'm fine." She stepped out of the embrace and took Joe by the arm. "And here's the reason why. Sarah, Rachel, I want you to meet Joe Hardy. He's a detective working on the case and a good friend of mine. Joe, these are my big sisters."

The girls turned and smiled at Joe, who was momentarily stunned by the display of beauty in front of him. He cleared his throat. "Nice to meet you."

Sarah, the one who appeared to be older and was about mid-way through a pregnancy, Joe guessed, leaned in and gave him a quick hug. "Thank you for taking care of Emily, Joe. She told us everything."

"Yeah, we're very grateful," Rachel echoed, giving him a hug as well.

"It was my pleasure," he said with a smile.

Emily tugged on his arm. "Well, come on in. You need to meet the rest of my family."

Joe stepped into the entryway and took a deep breath. "Wow, something smells amazing."

"It's just dinner." Emily smiled. "We all love to cook in this family."

_I have hit the jackpot. She's gorgeous, she's smart, and she cooks. _Joe was momentarily distracted as a tiny, dark-haired, little beauty came barreling into the foyer and straight into Emily, who scooped her up in her arms.

"Aunt Emily, you're here! Will you play with me?"

Emily laughed and Joe felt his heart beat faster at the sound. _That's the first time I've heard her really laugh since this case began._

"Well hello, Miss Lizzie. And what have you been up to? Keeping your mommy on her toes?"

Sarah shook her head. "You have no idea. She's a three year old who thinks she's at least sixteen and has more energy than Rob and I put together."

"I would love to play with you," Emily said, giving her niece a little tickle in the ribs. "What are we going to play?"

"Dolls."

"Sounds good. Why don't you get them ready and I'll come play after I talk to Grandma and Grandpa for a minute."

Lizzie looked over at Joe. "Is he your boyfriend?"

Emily blushed as Joe grinned and winked at the little girl.

"I don't know," Joe spoke up. "What do you think, Lizzie? Should I be Emily's boyfriend?"

Lizzie shrugged. "Maybe. She doesn't have one." She squirmed to get out of Emily's arms. "Hurry, Aunt Emily. I want to play dolls." She looked back at Joe after Emily set her down. "You can play, too."

Sarah sighed. "Sorry about that."

"No problem." Joe grinned. "She's cute."

"Um, why don't we go meet my parents?" Emily said, seeming eager to change the subject.

"Mom's in the kitchen," Rachel called. "And Rob and Mike are with Dad setting up the volleyball stuff."

Joe looked at Emily. "Volleyball?"

She smiled at him. "Are you any good at it?"

"Better than average, I suppose. Why?"

"Because my dad is passionate about it. He played for Pepperdine all through college and it's his thing. He plays with my brothers-in-law every weekend." She gave him a big smile. "They are going to be very happy to have a fourth person."

"Very happy," echoed Rachel, as she followed them into the kitchen.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Frank rapped lightly on the half closed door of his father's office.

"Come on in," Fenton's voice rang out.

He stepped inside and found his father sitting behind his large oak desk while Callie Shaw was rummaging through papers in the filing cabinet. "Are you busy?"

"Not at all," Fenton said. "Just tying up some loose ends on that counterfeiting case I was working on for the government. I need to get the reports in on Monday."

Frank grinned. "Oh, so that's why you're making your office assistant come in on the weekend. You're behind on your paperwork."

Callie smiled. "I don't mind. Besides, your dad promised me bonus pay."

"Really?" Frank leaned against his father's desk and crossed his arms in front of him. "I'll have to remember that when he asks Joe and me to work late or on holidays."

"Rules don't apply to family, son. Read the labor laws," Fenton said with a chuckle. "Did Joe and Emily head up to Twin Lakes?"

"Yeah, and I think it'll be good for them."

"Joe and Emily?" Callie said. "Anything I need to be filled in on?"

"You'll be the first to know, Cal. I promise," Frank said. "And, actually, if I know my brother...I'll have plenty to fill you in on by tomorrow."

"Good. I can't wait to hear the details." She picked up her purse. "I'll be in around nine-thirty tomorrow morning, Mr. Hardy. Is that okay?"

"Make it ten, Callie. It's a school holiday, right?"

She nodded. "Ten it is." As she walked by Frank she said, "Don't forget to call when you hear from Joe."

Frank grinned at her. "Maybe I'll just let you pump him for information."

"I don't want to have to hurt him, Frank. You tell me."

Frank laughed as Callie left Fenton's office and walked out the front door. He turned to his father. "Are you up to talking through this museum case? I need another point of view."

"You bet." Fenton settled back in his chair. "Fire away."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe followed Emily and his nose into the Clarks' warm and spacious kitchen. Emily's sisters both resumed what they must have been doing at the kitchen counter before the doorbell rang, and an attractive woman in her late forties or early fifties, whom Joe assumed was Emily's mother, smiled over at them from the stove.

"Oh, honey, you're here!" The woman, with dark hair the color of Emily's, but cut in an efficient page-boy, ran over and embraced her daughter. "We've been so worried."

Emily smiled and patted her on the back. "It's okay, Mom, really." She pulled away slightly. "Mom, I want you to meet Joe Hardy. He's the one I told you about. The one who saved me the other night."

Joe blushed and hung his head slightly. "I didn't save her."

"Well, then what would you call it?" Emily's mother asked as she enveloped Joe in a warm hug. "I'd say that bursting into a house where a masked intruder was trying to hurt someone and chasing him off qualifies as saving somebody." She rubbed Joe's back and squeezed him hard. As she stepped away, there were tears in her blue eyes. "Her father and I can't thank you enough."

Now Joe was truly embarrassed. He glanced over at Emily, who seemed to be enjoying his discomfort. He shuffled his feet and looked back at her mother. "I was just happy I could be there, ma'am."

"Now, don't you 'ma'am' me," Emily's mother said with a smile. "My name is Caroline. Emily's father is Steve and he should be in any minute now. I know he wants to thank you as well."

She turned around to find Emily basting the roast in the oven. "You're not here to work, young lady. You and Joe go have some fun. You let us do kitchen duty today."

"Cooking isn't work for me, Mom, you know that," she protested.

"We saved the pie for you," Sarah called from across the room. She smiled in Joe's direction. "Emily makes the world's best apple pie."

"I can't wait to taste it." He couldn't help but glance at her lips when he said that, and Emily's cheeks turned pink.

"Come on, you guys!" Lizzie ran into the room and tugged on Joe's hand. "You said you'd play with me."

"That's right, we did," Emily said, relief at her niece's interruption clear on her face. "Let's go do that right now." She looked up at Joe. "Okay with you?"

He nodded and allowed Lizzie to lead him out of the room.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: **Thanks as always for the wonderful feedback, Leya and Virtute! A short chapter to lead into what's coming next. We're getting close to the end, so the action will start to ramp up as the bad guys get a bit careless...and desperate.

Chapter 27

"Okay, so what we have so far is one murder victim with no apparent motive for the crime. One assault on Duncan with a deadly weapon and a smash and grab of museum artifacts. Plus, what appears to be a threatening note addressed to Duncan and left at the banquet. One case of arson and possible attempted murder on me. Three cases of ransacking, one breaking and entering, and one assault on Emily. And, two mysterious charmstones, at least one of them stolen from a museum in Edinburgh," Frank enumerated. "Oh, and zero clues."

Fenton sighed and thought for a moment. "I wouldn't say zero clues." He reached for a legal pad. "Tell me what you know so far."

"Okay." Frank perched on the edge of the desk. "Whoever committed the murder and the robbery at the museum is familiar with the security system. The cameras were turned off when Ayres' body was placed in that wheelbarrow of cement, and today I learned from Collig that the cameras were turned off during the party as well. I'm not sure if that was intentional or if it just happened because the electricity was shut off."

Fenton scribbled for a moment then looked up. "And they also somehow knew about the old staircase that led from the third floor to the basement. That pretty much tells me it's an inside job, son."

Frank nodded. "We also know that whoever is after Emily is after some sort of information. In her office and in her house, the perp was clearly searching for something on paper or something that would have been kept with papers. Her personal stuff wasn't really disturbed. And when the guy grabbed Emily, he asked her 'Where is it?'".

"And she really has no idea what he's talking about?"

Frank shook his head. "I think she somehow got something inadvertently. Something damaging to this guy."

"Makes me think he could be the murderer," Fenton mused.

"And we know that someone is trying to scare the pants off Duncan and he's doing a damn good job of it."

"Have you been able to talk to him about what happened that night at the dinner?"

"We were planning on it, but then Emily was attacked and we got a little sidetracked."

"Then why don't we do it now?" Fenton stood up. "Is he out of the hospital?"

"I think so."

"You know where he lives?"

"No, but I imagine Collig does."

Fenton reached for his phone. "I'll call him. You get ready."

"Thanks, Dad. I really appreciate your help." Frank headed out of the office to grab his car keys and wallet while Fenton called the police chief at home.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily led Joe down the third floor hallway to a sequestered bedroom tucked under the eaves of the old house. "Watch your head," she warned as they entered. "This is my bedroom, although Lizzie has taken it over completely."

"It's very pink." Joe said with a smile as he looked around.

She giggled. "My mom brought out all of our old toys and set them up in here. Lizzie wanted the 'fairy tale room' to be hers when she visits."

"Fairy tale room?"

"She thinks it's like being in a castle tower."

He nodded as Lizzie came rushing over to them. She grabbed Joe's hand and tugged. "Come on. Let's play."

"Are you sure this is okay?" Emily whispered as they knelt down in front of Lizzie's giant pile of fashion dolls.

"Yeah. I've...uh...never played with dolls before." Joe hesitated as he picked up a tiny tulle skirt. "Wait, I take that back. In second grade, Chet and I stole one of Callie's dolls and strapped her to a rocket for a test run. We didn't want to mess up his GI Joe if the rocket blew up."

Emily raised her eyebrows. "And did it?"

"No, but it burned off all the doll's hair." Joe grinned. "I don't think Callie has ever forgiven me for that."

"Here." Lizzie handed Joe a male fashion doll. "You can be Ken." She gave Emily a female doll with long, dark hair. "This is my Emily doll," she explained to Joe. "You're going to a party."

Joe turned to look at Emily's doll who was wearing thigh-high blue lamé boots, a matching trench coat with a fur collar and...nothing else. He gave her a wicked grin. "Is that your usual date night ensemble?"

Emily shook her head and laughed. "Um, Lizzie? Don't you think my doll needs more clothes?"

Lizzie shook her head. "They won't fit with her coat and she needs to wear that. It's cold outside."

"Honey, she's going to be freezing if she just wears a coat, boots and nothing else."

"I'll keep you warm," Joe said in a deep voice, as he walked his doll along the floor toward Emily's.

She dissolved into giggles as Lizzie pushed a pink convertible alongside them. "They have to drive in this."

Joe looked down. "My car is pink?"

"No silly, that's the girl's car." Lizzie took Joe's doll and shoved him in the front seat. "You don't have a car."

"I don't have a car?"

"You don't even have shoes," Emily pointed out, gesturing to the bare, plastic feet of his doll.

"This guy's a loser," Joe commented. "If I'm playing with dolls, it has to be one who's a real man. Don't you have any GI Joes around here?"

Emily laughed. "No. I come from a family of girls. GI Joe wasn't allowed in this house."

Joe grinned. "Not even on leave?"

Emily laughed as she tried to pull her doll's coat closed across her plastic buxom chest and failed. "No, although I can see why you'd think that."

Lizzie sighed and put her tiny hands on her hips as she turned her green eyes on Joe. "You have to play with this doll. He's the only daddy doll I have. And you need to drive the car. It's time for the dance."

"The dance?" Joe grinned. "We're going to a dance? Maybe we'd better stop someplace on the way so I can buy her flowers."

Emily laughed out loud. "Where on earth are you going to pin my corsage?"

Joe appeared to consider the question seriously. "Hmm, I guess you'll have to take off your coat when we get to the dance, won't you? How about the top of one of your boots?"

Emily fell over, laughing. "Holy cow, can you picture this at a school dance? Thigh-high boots and nothing else?"

"With a corsage," Joe reminded her. "You do have some class."

Sarah appeared at the bedroom doorway with a smile on her face. "What on earth is going on up here?"

"Your daughter is having us play dolls." She pointed to the convertible. "We're on our way to the prom."

Sarah burst out laughing. "Wow, Em, you're a tramp."

"I didn't dress myself."

Sarah nodded. "I know. Her fingers are too small to get the clothes on the right way." She moved across the room. "And really, I'm not sure I even want her playing with these, but she saw the piles of them we had in the attic and...well...I caved."

"She'll be fine. We did the same thing and none of us ever went on a date dressed like this." Emily waved the fashion doll in the air.

"Darn," Joe said.

Emily smiled at him as Sarah leaned down and scooped up her daughter who was already rubbing her eyes. "Time for your nap, munchkin. You can play with Emily and Joe later, when you wake up."

Lizzie let out a loud yawn as she laid her head down on her mother's shoulder. "Promise you won't play without me," she mumbled sleepily back at Emily.

"I promise." Emily stood up and crossed the room to give her niece a kiss on the cheek. "We'll leave everything just the way it is, okay?"

Lizzie nodded and stuck her thumb in her mouth as she was carried out of the room.

Emily turned to Joe as she set her doll on the bed. "Thanks for doing that."

"I had fun," Joe said.

"You're a good sport."

A voice was heard from the top of the stairs. "Em, is Joe up there? Dad wants him to play volleyball."

She flashed him a grin as she exited the room. "This is your test. I hope you're ready."

Joe's laugh had a bit of a nervous edge to it. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Emily gave him a quick, impromptu hug. "Don't worry. It'll be fine."

_Yeah,_ Joe thought. _As long as I don't make a giant fool out of myself._

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

*Barbie and Ken are trademarks of Mattel, Inc. GI Joe is owned by Hasbro, Inc.*


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: **Thanks for the review, Virtute! I really appreciate the time you take to comment. The case ramps up again in this chapter and we'll start getting into some serious action. I promise...the end is near. LOL Thanks to everyone who continues to read!

Chapter 28

"You know, the problem with this case has been that the second we get a lead we want to pursue, something else happens to distract us from it," Frank said with a sigh, as he walked with his father up the front steps of Duncan's modest, Cape Cod style home.

"Well, after we're done interviewing MacLean, let's go over that list of leads and start tackling them one by one," Fenton said as he reached forward to ring the doorbell.

Frank smiled. "Thanks. That would be a huge help."

"No problem. We have a murderer loose in Bayport. We need to catch him."

The white front door of the house opened cautiously and Duncan's Scottish brogue greeted them. "Who is it?"

"Frank Hardy. I'm here with my dad, Fenton Hardy. Do you mind if we come in and ask you some questions about the other night?"

Frank could hear him sigh from behind the door. "Don't you police guys ever talk to one another? I already answered a million questions from the chief."

"We're private investigators," Frank explained.

The door opened fully and Duncan stood there in a tartan robe with a scowl on his face. "I thought you and your brother worked for the cops."

"On a limited basis," Frank explained as Duncan opened the screen door and gestured for them to enter. "We won't be long. We know you're still not completely recovered from the shooting."

"I'm fine," Duncan said. He shook Fenton's outstretched hand and then ushered them into his living room. "Have a seat."

Frank and Fenton walked to the leather sofa, while Duncan eased himself into a wing chair opposite them. Frank noted the open books and papers Duncan had on the coffee table. "Doing some work?"

"Trying." He grimaced slightly as he adjusted his position in the chair. "I've been going over information on the items that were stolen. I can't seem to figure out why anyone would want them badly enough to pull the stunt they did at the banquet."

"Do you have any theories?" Fenton asked.

"Nothing plausible." Duncan sighed. "Monetarily, they're not worth it. And I just can't come up with anything else."

"Did you see anyone suspicious at the banquet?" Frank leaned forward. "Maybe someone who wasn't on the guest list?"

Duncan shook his head. "No. But my time was being monopolized by Mrs. Fitzpatrick. She makes one donation for five grand and she thinks I'm supposed to kiss her...er...feet."

"What did you do when the lights went out?" Fenton wanted to know.

"I heard glass breaking and I ran for the exhibit cases. I thought I might have a chance at stopping the intruder." He sighed again. "I would have done it too, if I hadn't gotten shot." He looked up at Frank and Fenton. "I don't remember anything after that."

Frank reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the evidence bag he'd borrowed from Collig, containing the note card left near Duncan's table on the night of the banquet. He placed it on the coffee table. "Does this look familiar?"

"What is it?" Duncan leaned forward in his chair slowly, wincing at the pain in his shoulder.

"It was found on the floor of the museum the morning after the banquet. It appears to be addressed to you."

Duncan picked up the plastic bag and read the message. His face paled to a deathly white. The card slipped from his hand. "It can't be," he whispered.

"What can't be?" Frank asked. "What do you know about this?"

Duncan gulped. "I-I've never seen that card before."

"Then what did you mean?"

"Elizabeth Campbell lived over five hundred years ago." His eyes were wild as he looked from Frank to Fenton. "Don't you see? She's still seeking revenge. She's haunting me. She's the one responsible for the shooting."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"I've brought you a fourth," Emily said, as she led Joe by the hand through a set of French doors, into her backyard.

"Great," a male voice called out.

Joe turned to see a handsome, blond-haired man in his early thirties approach them. He bent down to kiss Emily on the cheek.

"You okay, baby? We heard what happened. Sarah was sick about it."

"I'm fine." She smiled and looked at Joe. "This is Joe. He's the one who came to my rescue."

Joe rolled his eyes. "You've got to stop saying that, Emily."

"Why? It's true." She gestured and smiled. "This is my brother-in-law, Rob. He's married to my sister, Sarah."

Joe shook his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"You, too. And thanks for looking out for our little Emmy, here."

"My pleasure," Joe smiled. He glanced up as two other dark haired men approached.

"This is Rachel's husband, Mike," Emily said, as Joe shook his hand.

"Good to meet you, Joe."

"And this," Emily said with a big smile, "is my dad."

Joe looked over to see the same green eyes of Emily's staring at him from her father's face. He was handsome, with dark hair graying at the temples, and an easy smile. He shook Joe's hand vigorously. "Thanks for taking care of my baby girl."

"My pleasure, sir."

"We're glad to have you here," Emily's dad continued. "Especially since it means I don't have to beat these two all by myself anymore." He grinned as he gestured to Emily's brothers-in-law. "You play volleyball, Joe?"

"Yeah," he said with a slight hesitation in his voice.

"Great," Emily's dad said. "Then welcome to the Clark family tradition." He headed out across the lawn to a sandy area. "Let's go, guys."

Mike laughed and turned to Joe. "Okay, let me clue you in here, so you don't have to learn the hard way."

"Like we did," Rob added.

"Steve plays to win and he expects you to, also. Don't worry about going easy on him...he'll kill you. He's that good."

"He'll respect you if you go for it. No holding back. Got it?" Rob asked as he tossed him the volleyball.

"Got it," Joe said. He looked back at Emily who gave him an encouraging smile.

"They're right." She patted him on the back. "Have fun. I'll be in the kitchen with the 'womenfolk'."

Rob laughed. "Yeah, you tell Sarah she's right where I want her. Barefoot, pregnant and cooking my dinner."

Emily snorted. "If I tell her that, you won't be able to run fast enough to escape her wrath."

"Don't I know it?" He looked at Joe. "I'm teasing, of course. It's a standing joke around here with all the cooking these women like to do." As they walked down the patio steps to the volleyball court, he said in a low voice. "Once you have a dinner here, you're a goner."

Mike chuckled. "Yeah, Rachel's still not sure if I married her for her or her mother's cooking."

Joe gave an uneasy laugh as he tossed the volleyball in the air and caught it.

"He thinks we're kidding," Rob said to Mike as they moved towards the net.

Mike shook his head. "He'll learn. Just buy the ring now, Joe," he grinned. "You're going to anyway...right after your first bite of roast beef."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"I hate to break this to you," Fenton said to Duncan. "But someone who lived over five hundred years ago couldn't possibly be responsible for your getting shot last week."

Duncan shook his head. "I don't mean she pulled the trigger." He eased himself back into his chair and paused. "I mean she's bewitching me. I'm cursed."

Frank sighed. "We're back to that again." He looked at Duncan. "Would you care to explain what you mean by that?"

Duncan held out a trembling hand and pointed to the bookshelves flanking his fireplace. "There," he said. "On the third shelf. There's a book with a plaid binding. Get that for me, would you?"

Frank stood and moved toward the bookshelf to retrieve the volume.

Duncan looked at Fenton. "Would you mind bringing us all some tea, Mr. Hardy? I've a kettle on the stove and it's already hot. The tea is on the counter. I was about to have a cup when you knocked on the door."

"Not at all," Fenton replied. "You look like you could use some."

He headed toward the kitchen and Frank handed the book to Duncan. "Is this the one?"

Duncan nodded and thumbed through the pages. "Here." He handed it back to Frank. "Here's the legend of Elizabeth Campbell and Lachlan MacLean. Read the last paragraph."

Frank carried the book back to the sofa and sat down as he began to read aloud. "After the crime of leaving his wife to drown at high tide by Laird Lachlan MacLean was uncovered, Lady Elizabeth Campbell vowed her revenge. While attempts were made throughout history to make the Laird's wife appear almost in the light of a martyred saint, other accounts assert that she'd twice attempted to take her husband's life during their marriage. It was because of this, and the fact that Lady Elizabeth was barren, that Lachlan MacLean decided to dispose of his problem once and for all by leaving his 'loving' wife to die on a shoal off the coast of Mull."

Fenton reappeared with a cup of steaming tea and handed it to Duncan.

"Aren't you having any?" Duncan asked.

"After I hear the rest of this story." Fenton joined his son on the couch. "It's fascinating."

"Most Scottish history is," Duncan said with a smile as he sipped his tea.

Frank cleared his throat. "Anyway, the legend continues by saying that Elizabeth Campbell delivered a message to her now estranged husband telling him that she would never forgive him for disgracing her in such a way and that not only would she haunt him after his death, but every MacLean that was or would be the clan chief would be a target for her revenge." He looked up. "Wow, that girl knows how to hold a grudge."

Duncan pointed to the note in the evidence bag resting on his coffee table. "Precisely."

Fenton snorted. "You're not telling me that you think this note is actually from the ghost of Elizabeth Campbell, are you?"

"It doesn't seem rational, I know," Duncan's hands shook around his tea cup. "But I am next in line to be the clan chief. It's only a title now, of course, but the curse doesn't seem to discriminate. And besides, what other explanation is there?"

"Someone knows about your superstitions involving this legend and is capitalizing on them to scare you," Frank said.

"But why?" Duncan glanced from Frank to Fenton. "What reason would they have to do this?"

Fenton shook his head. "I don't know. Someone clearly wants to intimidate you, wants you gone from the museum, wants the museum to fail or..."

"Wants you dead," Frank finished.

Duncan looked at his shoulder. "That message was received loud and clear."

"This is all connected somehow," Fenton continued. "Ayres' murder, the stolen artifacts, the incident at the banquet, the charmstones, the creep who attacked Emily–"

"What?" Duncan interrupted. "Who attacked Emily? What are you talking about?"

Frank explained the events of the previous night and Duncan's eyes widened in alarm.

"What on earth could she possibly have that someone would want badly enough to kill for?" Duncan asked. "She doesn't deal with sensitive information at the museum. There's nothing she could have."

"That's what baffles us," Fenton admitted. "But I think when we find what that guy was looking for, we'll have our answer."

"Unless what you're looking for is a ghost," Duncan said in a low voice as he sipped his tea.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily looked up from her position behind the kitchen counter as the men in her family entered the room. "Where's Joe?"

"He's right here. Don't worry Em; we weren't mean to your boyfriend," Mike said with a grin.

She ignored the remark as she dried her hands on a dish towel and moved towards the French doors. "How'd it go?"

"The game?" her dad asked. "Great. Joe's quite the player. He has a wicked spike." He grinned. "He even got me a time or two."

Emily visibly relaxed and Joe moved towards her. "I had fun," he whispered reassuringly in her ear.

"Why don't you all wash up a bit and we can eat," Emily's mom suggested.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Mike smiled as he moved toward the kitchen sink. "I'm starving."

Joe surveyed the long oak dining table, running the length of the next room. It was piled high with food and Sarah and Rachel continued to add more dishes to the already crowded sideboard. "Does your family always eat like this?"

"Every Sunday," Emily said with a smile.

"I'm impressed," he grinned back at her.

"I hope you're hungry," she said, as she broke off a piece of a warm roll and held it out to him.

Joe pulled her close to him and opened his mouth. Emily giggled and fed him the roll, while he gave her back a gentle caress. Her eyes widened and Joe saw a glimmer of anticipation there. "It's delicious," he said, in a somewhat husky voice.

"Buy the ring," Rob said in a loud whisper as he walked by with a bowl of steaming mashed potatoes, breaking the spell.

"What?" Emily had a puzzled look on her face.

"It's nothing," Joe said with a wave of his hand.

"Have some roast beef, Joe," Mike shouted out from across the room.

"You two are so weird," Emily said to her brothers-in-law with a roll of her eyes.

Joe chuckled and looked up as Emily's sister, Sarah, came over to the table with a dish of green beans.

"Hey, you do have shoes on," he said with a grin. "Rob was just saying outside how he likes to have you–"

"Comfortable, sweetheart," Rob interrupted. "I want you to always be comfortable."

"Aw, thanks honey." Sarah smiled as she sat the dish on the table. "He's always so thoughtful when I'm pregnant."

Rob shook his head as Joe suppressed a chuckle. Mike laughed out loud. "You're going to fit right in, Joe."


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: **Thanks for the feedback, Leya and Virtute! I love reading it. And yes, the mystery does pull to the front again, still mixed in with a little fun, but things will get more tense as we get closer to the end. Stay tuned!

Chapter 29

"So, is Duncan crazy?" Frank asked his father over his fast-food hamburger and fries that served as their dinner.

"I'm not sure." Fenton dipped his fries into a pile of ketchup and ate them. "At the least, he's very superstitious. And terrified."

"He seemed surprised about Emily being attacked."

"I think that was genuine." Fenton reached for his drink. "Not that he really could be a suspect with that shoulder wound."

"Yeah, he wouldn't have had the strength to fight with her," Frank said, as he leaned back in his chair. "I've got to admit it, Dad. This case has me stumped. I don't even know where to look next."

"How about the security office? Did you and Joe have a chance to sweep it for bugs?"

"No. We were going to do that today, but after Emily got attacked, we got a little sidetracked."

Fenton wiped his hands on a paper napkin. "No time like the present, I always say."

"Can we get in there at this hour? On the weekend?"

Fenton smiled. "Are you really asking me that question?"

Frank grinned. "You think I'd know better by now."

"You'd think," Fenton said as he stood and crumpled the paper sack his meal came in.

"We can take the van," Frank said, pulling the keys from his pocket.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe surveyed the Clarks' family room where everyone headed after dinner and smiled. "This is almost like a real movie theatre."

Emily smiled back at him. "Well, Dad likes to think it's the next best thing. This all started when Sarah worked at the Multi-plex in high school and he bought a used projector from them. He really got into it." She gestured towards the far wall. "So, now we have a screen and real movies. Dad buys them from some distribution place in Hollywood."

"So, every Sunday night is movie night?"

"You got it." Emily sat on one of the couches and patted the spot next to her. "Actually, we all like it, but we don't tell him that. We prefer the teasing."

Joe sat and watched as Emily's sister, Sarah, came in and took a seat on the sofa situated closer to the screen. She turned and gave her husband a questioning look as he entered the room. "Lizzie's zonked. I put her on your parents' bed." She smiled as Rob sat down and pulled his wife into his arms. "What's up for tonight, Steve?" he asked his father-in-law.

"_Jaws_", he replied. "I ordered it two months ago, and it's finally here."

"Oh, swell," muttered Rachel, as she squeezed into the recliner next to her husband.

Mike laughed and kissed her head. "It's okay, baby. It's October now. You have months before you have to get in the water again."

Joe leaned toward Emily. "_Jaws_, huh? That's pretty cool."

"It's pretty scary," she said with a smile. "I've always had this irrational fear of being in water where I can't see the bottom. This movie kept me out of the ocean for a month when I saw it in the theater."

"I think you're pretty safe here in the house," Joe teased.

Emily pulled her feet up off the carpet and tucked them underneath her. "Just in case," she said with a giggle.

Joe smiled and touched her arm. She flinched and tried to hide it, but he noticed. He reached for her hand and gently turned it in his so he could look at her forearm. "I didn't realize you were bruised this badly."

"It's okay," she said, trying to pull her hand back.

Joe held it firmly. "No, it's not." He traced his fingers over it lightly. "Does that hurt?"

Emily looked up at him and shook her head as her mother entered the room and turned off the lights.

"I have popcorn in the kitchen. Does anybody want some?"

She smiled as a chorus of groans greeted her. "If I eat one more thing, I'll explode," Mike said.

"Okay. Just let me know when you get hungry again," she told them as she made her way toward the sofa where Emily's dad was seated.

As the movie started and a cheer went up, Joe's eyes met Emily's again and he entwined his fingers with hers and kept her hand in his.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"So, who has access to the security office?" Fenton asked Frank, as they entered the museum and quickly punched in the code to disable the alarm system.

"Anyone, apparently," Frank responded as they made their way across the tile floor. The security lamps gave them enough light to see as they moved down the corridor to Mitch's office. "They don't keep it locked from what I've seen."

"Any cameras trained on this door?" Fenton asked as he and Frank stepped inside.

"Not specifically. They have a few in the lobby, but they're set to the main entrance." Frank held up his finger to indicate silence as he and his dad began to methodically search the office for bugs.

After a few moments, Frank held up something in his hand triumphantly. Fenton nodded as he unscrewed the phone receiver. His expression grim, he held up another electronic device. After a few more moments of silent searching, Fenton turned to his son. "I think that's it."

"Yeah," Frank agreed. "It explains a lot. Anyone who wanted to accomplish what they did at the banquet the other night was probably well versed in the security plans for the evening."

"I wonder why Mitch didn't think to check for listening devices?"

Frank shrugged. "I'm not sure Joe and I would have thought to do it, if it wasn't so obvious that someone overheard us talking about the hidden staircase in this room."

"Speaking of that hidden staircase..."

Frank chuckled as he walked to the office door. "Right this way."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily jumped as the shark attacked yet another group of teenagers in the water. She mentally shook herself. _You look like an idiot._ She stole a glance in Joe's direction. He was smiling and looking at her sister, Rachel, who'd practically climbed on top of her husband in fear. Emily giggled as she leaned closer to Joe and whispered, "She absolutely hates scary movies."

"I can tell." Joe grinned and turned to her. His face was mere inches from hers, and Emily's breath hitched. She swallowed hard. Joe reached forward with his free hand and pushed an errant curl behind her shoulder. Still holding her other hand in his, he made lazy circles on her palm with his thumb. "Did you tease her about that when you were kids?"

"Wh-what?" All of a sudden, Emily felt like she couldn't hold a single thought in her head.

Joe leaned in closer and said softly, "Being scared. Did you tease her?"

His breath was warm against her skin and she shivered. "Um, yeah. All the time."

Joe touched his head to hers as he whispered in her ear. "I thought so."

Emily knew she had goose bumps now. Joe slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. He kept his head close to hers, and lightly grazed his lips along her jaw and up to her ear. Her heart pounded faster. "Are you nervous?" he whispered as he nuzzled her neck.

"N-no," she managed. "Should I be?"

He chuckled low as he pressed his mouth to her cheek. "Definitely not." He caressed her back gently and slid his lips to her neck again. Emily's eyes closed and she felt her knees growing weak. _Good thing I'm sitting down_. The pressure of his soft lips and the gentle scratch of his chin against her skin was making her tingle all over. She tentatively reached up with her hand and slid it into his hair, holding him against her. She heard him suck in his breath at her touch and she shivered again. He lifted his eyes to hers and with one look, Emily knew her life had just changed completely.

"Hey, how about that popcorn?" Mike's voice broke through the haze in Emily's mind.

Her mother laughed. "I knew it wouldn't take your appetite long to resurface." She turned slightly and called over her shoulder, "Em, would you mind bringing in the popcorn and some bowls? You and Joe are closest to the kitchen."

"Yeah, sure," she said hurriedly, her eyes never leaving Joe's. The two of them stood and walked rapidly out of the room.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Frank and Fenton exited the main elevator on the third floor of the museum. They wound their way through the reception area and a row of cubicles before reaching Mr. Perriton's office. Frank looked at the door knob as he went to enter. "I see they still haven't gotten around to fixing this. It probably isn't even in the budget after all that's happened here."

Fenton fingered the splintered wood on the doorframe and surveyed the damaged metal plate. "If I didn't know better I'd say this was your brother's work."

Frank grinned. "Then you'd be right. Joe kicked it in when he was coming to rescue me from the fire."

"Yeah, he always excelled at breaking down doors." Fenton chuckled. "I still don't think Gertrude's forgiven him for destroying the lower half of the Dutch door in the kitchen all those years ago."

"Well, she probably shouldn't have shut it after he went outside. Joe's feet always moved faster than his brain when he was a kid." Frank crossed Perriton's office to the restroom leading to the hidden staircase. "He just figured it was open when he went in the backyard two minutes earlier, why wouldn't it still be open?"

Fenton shook his head and smiled. "I can still hear Gertrude carrying on about it to this day. 'That boy moves like a herd of elephants.'"

Frank flipped the light switch in the restroom. "Good thing he does. His door busting talent has actually been useful on more than one occasion since then."

Fenton paused and studied the built-in sink and cabinetry that covered the hidden staircase. "You think Perriton knew about this?"

"I don't know." Frank shook his head. "It was really well concealed. From the information Collig has, Perriton only came to work here three years ago. That was well after this remodel."

"Yeah." Fenton stepped through the opening into the stairwell. "I suppose we could ask him about it. Doesn't mean we'll get the truth though."

Frank pulled a large flashlight out of his "stake-out" duffle bag. He shone the beam around the old stairwell and down the steps.

Fenton grabbed his arm. "Wait a minute. Go back. Right there. Stop."

He scrambled down the steps while Frank focused the light on a wall near the bottom of the flight of stairs.

Fenton reached down by a stud that was part of the new wall of the museum and pulled out what looked liked dark cloth to Frank.

"What is that, Dad?"

"A security guard uniform." Fenton shook it and a dark wig, a hat and a pair of brown shoes that had been rolled inside it came tumbling out.

"That's the same uniform the guy on the security video was wearing," Frank said as he hurried down the steps toward his father. "The guy who most likely ransacked Emily's office."

"Our culprit must have been storing it here for easy access."

"And that means that he could have gotten off the third floor elevators dressed normally, and exited from the basement as somebody else, and no one would be any wiser."

"I say we leave it here for now." Fenton began folding the garment around the other items that had been stored with it. "If it disappears, our perp will have his guard up. Right now, he thinks he's getting away with everything."

Frank nodded. "And hopefully, he'll do something careless soon."

Fenton stuffed the uniform back in the crevice he'd pulled it from. "They always do, son."

Frank held up his hand. "Did you hear that?"

"What?"

Frank held his finger over his lips to indicate silence and moved quietly to the top of the staircase. As he entered the restroom, he heard movement from the reception area outside Perriton's office. He quickly turned off the lights in the bathroom and ushered his father back into the stairwell. "Someone's coming."


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews Virtute, Leya and Don't Ever Forget! They made me smile. I had fun pairing up Frank and Fenton. I love seeing Fenton as their mentor and really helping them learn how to be detectives. He stays involved here, but it does get back to Frank and Joe working as a team. In fact, Joe gets jolted out of his testosterone haze and back into the case rather quickly by the end of this chapter. LOL Thanks again to everyone reading!

Chapter 30

As they passed through the swinging doors into the dimly lit kitchen, Joe reached for Emily, turning her around and drawing her into him. As she rested her hands on his shoulders for balance, he gazed down at her. She stared back at him, her eyes wide. She was so beautiful, and he hadn't stopped wanting her for his own from the first moment he'd seen her. He slid his thumb over her lower lip, trying to steady his breathing. He needed to be gentle. Tender. Slow. Whatever it took not to frighten her. He lowered his head slightly toward hers and watched as she parted her lips in anticipation. He groaned low, closed his eyes and slid his hand around to the back of her neck, tilting her mouth to his. When his lips finally touched hers, he could feel a surge of heat course through his body. She was soft and warm and tasted like heaven. He felt her melt into him as he slid his other arm around her waist, and pulled her against him more fully. She reached her hands around his neck, holding him tightly as the kiss intensified. Joe broke the connection briefly to stare into her eyes. "Wow," he murmured, before he covered her mouth with his again.

He drew her closer to him until his arms were wrapped completely around her, and his hands wandered up and down her back, caressing her gently. _Soft. So incredibly soft._ The urge to deepen the kiss was overwhelming and as he did so, Emily sighed against his mouth. That sweet, little sound was his undoing, and Joe fought hard to control the desire that swept over him as the kiss went on and on.

"Hey, how about that popcorn?" Mike called out from the other room.

Startled, Emily pulled back from Joe. Her cheeks colored slightly as he smiled at her. "I–I think we'd better get back in there," she stammered, reaching for the large bowl on the table. "They might start to suspect something."

"I think they already do," he teased as he reached for the stack of smaller bowls.

Emily blushed more deeply as she pushed through the swinging doors back into the living room. She handed the popcorn to her sister, Rachel, who gave her a knowing look. Mike grinned at her as he tossed one of the kernels into his mouth. "Glad you could stop making out long enough to remember the snacks."

"How could we forget?" Emily retorted. "You've done nothing but remind us."

Mike reached for another handful. "It's my 'make out radar'. My timing is impeccable."

Rachel slapped him lightly on the arm. "Just ignore him, Em."

"Hey, I'm just getting her back for all the times she walked in on us."

"I was thirteen," Emily reminded him, as she turned back to Joe, who sat his stack of bowls on the coffee table.

"Quiet, kids," Mr. Clark called out. "I'm trying to hear the movie."

Joe and Emily took their seats on the sofa again, with Joe pulling her into him closely. She snuggled against him and he pressed his lips to the side of her head. "Happy?" he asked her.

"Very," she said, smiling up at him.

"Me, too." Joe bent down and kissed her lips softly. They broke apart as a popcorn kernel flew through the air and bounced off Emily's head.

"Impeccable," Mike said with a laugh.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"Who is it?" Fenton whispered, as Frank moved into the stairwell.

"Not sure yet." Frank leaned forward slightly, peering through the false door into the restroom and beyond to Perriton's office.

"Whoever it is, they're not being quiet." Loud sounds of drawers being opened and shut and files being shuffled met their ears. "Can you see anything?"

Frank shook his head. "No, but the light's on. Wait." He held up his hand, as someone passed through his line of vision. "It's a man."

"Could be our pretend security guard. We need to be prepared to hustle down the stairs," Fenton warned.

Frank nodded and moved forward slightly as the man began to mutter aloud.

"Where is it, damn it?" the voice called out.

"He's looking for something," Frank hissed to his father.

"It's got to be here. It's got to be."

Frank's eyes widened as he recognized the voice. "Dad, it's Perriton."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"Thanks so much, Mom," Emily said, as she hugged her mother goodbye.

"You're welcome, sweetheart." Her mother patted her back. "You and Joe have a safe drive back to Bayport."

"Joe, it was nice meeting you." Steven Clark extended his hand. "I can't thank you enough for what you did for Emily."

"It was nothing, sir," Joe replied modestly.

"It wasn't 'nothing' to us," Mr. Clark continued, placing his other hand on Joe's shoulder. "We hope to see you again sometime soon."

Joe looked sideways at Emily. "I hope so, too."

Emily smiled, her dimples showing. "I'm pretty sure he'll be back."

Mr. Clark leaned in and kissed his daughter. "You be careful sweetheart, you hear?"

"I will. I promise." Emily hugged him tightly and turned to walk with Joe to her car. He held the door open for her and quickly moved around to the driver's side. He paused after he started the ignition and smiled at her.

"That was fun. I really like your family."

"They like you, too. Will you come back with me the next time I get a weekend off?"

Joe leaned in close to her. "You won't have to ask me twice." He bent his head down and gently kissed her lips.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"The museum director?" Fenton moved forward. "Let me have a look."

Frank stepped back as Fenton positioned himself so he could see through the slight crack in the false wall.

"I wonder what he's doing here at this hour?" Frank mused.

Fenton shrugged. "Lots of people work in their offices at night, son."

"Yeah, but he's clearly upset about something."

At that moment an object came hurtling into the bathroom and smashed onto the tile floor. Fenton jumped. "Clearly." He moved cautiously toward the opening in the wall and listened carefully as Perriton's voice got louder.

"How could he do this to me? How could this be happening? I will be ruined by this, and it isn't even my fault!" He banged a few more drawers open and shut, uttered a few choice expletives, then stormed out of his office.

Frank turned on the flashlight and he and Fenton exchanged glances. "What on earth do you make of that?" Frank asked.

Fenton's mouth pulled into a tight line. "I think we may have just discovered the person who's been searching for the mysterious paper."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"So then Frank went to push me, and I stepped to the side, and he took a nosedive right off the pier." Joe laughed as he told Emily of a childhood incident between the brothers.

Emily giggled. "I'll bet he got you back later."

"Oh, he did," Joe agreed. "But at least it wasn't in front of the cutest girl in the whole ninth grade."

Emily smiled broadly. "So did you win the girl?"

"Temporarily. Until I realized underneath it all, she was pretty...um, how should I say it...vacant."

"Ah, so brains are more important to you than beauty?"

"I like the total package," Joe said with a grin. "That's hard to come by, though." He reached over and squeezed Emily's hand. "However, I think I may have just found it."

She looked up at him through her eyelashes. "Likewise."

Joe lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. As he turned to look at her, a pair of headlights in the rearview mirror caught his attention.

Emily noticed the change in his expression. "Joe, what's wrong?"

"I don't know," he said slowly. "I think that car might be following us."

She glanced out her side mirror. "It does seem awfully close."

"Let me try something." Joe quickly turned onto a side road. After a few moments, the car appeared behind them again. His face turned grim. "Yep, definitely following us."

"What should we do?"

"I'm going to try to lose him," Joe told her. He deftly maneuvered the car through the streets of a neighborhood. The vehicle behind them kept up. "He's good, even if he's not subtle." He glanced over at Emily. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "I know I'm safe with you."

Joe felt a surge of protectiveness toward her. "Let's try another strategy. I'm going to pull in front of that convenience store. There are quite a few people around. Let's see what he does."

He parked the Honda in front of the gas pump and waited. The vehicle behind him did not enter the lot, but slowed, then shot past the store. "Did you recognize the car?" Joe asked Emily.

She shook her head. "I've never seen it before."

"I couldn't read the plates either. They had mud on them." He turned to her. "Obviously someone doesn't want to be recognized."

Emily's expression was troubled. "Do you think it's the guy who broke into my house?"

"That's a possibility," Joe said. He saw the fear in her eyes and mentally kicked himself. "Don't worry. I won't let anyone hurt you." He pulled her into him and hugged her tightly. "In fact, I'm not letting you go anywhere alone. You'll stay at our house until we catch this nut and either Frank or I will be with you all the time." He felt her relax in his arms and he kissed her forehead.

She smiled at him. "Thank you so much. I don't know what I would have done without you these past two weeks."

"Hey," Joe said, his voice low and husky, "in case you haven't noticed, Emily Clark, I'm kind of falling for you."

She giggled and gave him a lopsided smile which made his heart flip.

"In fact, I was wondering if..." Joe cleared his throat nervously and paused.

"You were wondering...?"

He ran the back of his hand gently over her cheek and took a deep breath. "I was wondering...if you would consider...beingmygirlfriend." The words came out in a rush.

A slow smile spread across Emily's face. "I would like nothing more than to be your girlfriend, Joe."

"Really?"

She slid her arms around his neck. "Really."

"You're not afraid?"

"I'm slightly less than terrified, but I'm also tired of pretending. It's exhausting." She brushed back a lock of his blond hair that had fallen over his forehead. "I'm kind of falling for you, too."

Joe bent down and brought his lips to hers. "It's official then," he whispered, before kissing her, slowly and deeply.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"You think Perriton ransacked Emily's office?" Frank asked his father.

"I think it's a distinct possibility." Fenton listened carefully at the false door, then slipped into the restroom.

Frank followed him, shining the flashlight beam over pieces of the vase Perriton has thrown. "You think he attacked Emily?"

Fenton paused at the door into Perriton's office and motioned for Frank. They stepped inside and Frank played the light across the room. "Maybe. He's obviously angry over something he can't find."

Frank focused the flashlight on Perriton's filing cabinet. "And it's paper."

Fenton turned to see files scattered everywhere. "That's what the guy who was after Emily was looking for, right?"

Frank nodded. "He's physically more powerful than she is. He could have done it." He snapped his fingers. "One way to prove it though."

"How?"

"Emily injured her intruder. Stabbed him with a wicked shard of glass. He'd have a nasty cut on his arm."

"Then all you need is a way to figure out if he does," Fenton said.

"Oh, is that all?" Frank said and chuckled.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily felt drowsy as she and Joe drove down the quiet country road toward Bayport. He held her hand in one of his and steered the Honda with the other. "Are you sure it will be okay for me to keep staying at your house?" she asked.

"Definitely," he assured her. "I know Dad and Frank won't mind at all, and my aunt will like having another female around."

She smiled. "The testosterone level in the Hardy household must be overwhelming."

"For her, yes." Joe grinned, glancing sideways at Emily. "Even though she scolds us, I think she secretly enjoys it."

Emily laughed, then gasped as she looked up. "Joe!"

He swerved the car to avoid a pair of headlights headed straight for them. The car sideswiped them, clipping the front bumper. "Are you okay?" Joe called out. Emily nodded, unable to speak. He looked into the rearview mirror. "Damn. He's turning around. He means business." Joe accelerated, trying to outrun him. Unfortunately, Emily's little Honda didn't have nearly enough power to compete with the engine of the full-size sedan. The car gained on them quickly, nudging them from behind. Joe accelerated again. The car pulled to the side and began turning into them, trying to push them off the road. Joe applied the brakes and the car shot past them. "How close are we to civilization?"

"Um, there's a small town about five miles down the road," Emily paused, trying to catch her breath. "Right here, we're in the middle of farm country, though."

"Okay, well, let's hope I can out-drive him for a little bit longer." Joe braced himself as he saw the car turning around again. He sped up, hoping to pass the sedan before it came out of the maneuver. He managed to shoot by it, but the sedan quickly came alongside the Honda again. Joe attempted to cut him off, slowing the sedan for only a moment. He watched as the passenger side window on the car was lowered. The driver, wearing a ski mask, pointed a gun at him. "Emily, duck. Now!" Joe ordered.

He floored the Honda and pulled ahead of the car, as a gunshot rang out. The back window of the Honda shattered. Joe pressed the accelerator harder and gained even more distance between him and his pursuer. He heard the weapon fire again and felt the Honda sway violently. "Damn, he got the tire." Joe struggled to control the car, but without much luck. A sharp turn in the road came upon them suddenly, and he realized they were going to crash. "Stay down, Emily!" The last thing he saw before the Honda slid off the road was the sedan speeding away.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"Joe?" Emily called out. She felt his body pressing against hers. She remembered how he threw himself over her at the last minute, protecting her as best he could from the impact of the crash. She struggled to move, his weight heavy on her back. "Joe?" she repeated, this time with a note of panic in her voice. He didn't move.

Emily wriggled out from underneath him, and reached over to lift his head. She pulled her hand back when she felt something warm and sticky on it. Blood. _Oh, no. No, please! Not Joe. Be all right, be all right. Please be all right. _She pressed her fingers against his neck and felt a strong, steady pulse. She gave a shaky sigh as she gently leaned him towards the driver's seat. The car was tilted sideways, the passenger door resting against the ground, so she held his chest with one hand while she tried to examine him. She spotted a large cut on his head that was bleeding profusely. Fighting panic, she looked around for something to staunch the flow. Reaching backwards toward the glove box, she pulled out her first-aid kit, and still holding Joe away from her, unrolled some gauze and wadded it up. With one hand, she held it against his cut while she wound the rest of the gauze around his head, tying it as best she could. Then she carefully let him sag against her body. She struggled to turn in the tiny space, and managed to get him draped over her.

Stopping to try and catch her breath, she said a silent prayer as she laid him down across the seat in the opposite direction. She wriggled out of her jacket and slipped it under his head as she propped him up against the passenger side door. She tried to position him so that his head was higher than his heart and counted on gravity to help the bleeding slow a bit.

"Joe?" she called. "Joe, can you hear me?" Tears filled her eyes. _Not now, Emily. You need to be strong for him. You need to get him help. _She sighed and tried to open the driver's side door. It was jammed shut.

Fortunately, the window had broken and she managed to crawl through it, unceremoniously tumbling into the dirt and glass below. Brushing herself off, she stood and climbed up the side of the small ravine where the car came to rest. As she peered down the road, a horrible thought crossed her mind. _What if that guy hasn't left? What if he's waiting to see if we're dead, and if we're not, finish us off? _As if on cue, a pair of headlights suddenly appeared around the bend.


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: **Thank your for the reviews, Virtute and Freestar! Sorry about the cliffie, Virtute. LOL And yes, Joe is 21 with a new girlfriend...his hormones are raging. ;-) Freestar, I'm so glad you're enjoying the story and it reminds you of the show. I used to watch it every Sunday night...a dream come true for a 10 year old girl in the late 70s...my favorite books and two teen idols combined. LOL I loved the way Frank and Joe teased each other on the show, and I hope I can convey at least some of that here. Thanks again to all who are reading!

Chapter 31

Joe slowly felt himself waking up. _Damn, my head hurts. _He tried to move. _Damn, everything hurts. Where am I? _He struggled to make his brain focus; to recall what on earth had landed him in his current predicament. And clearly, it was a predicament of some sort. _Was I kidnapped? Hit over the head by some thug? _

He reached his hand up to brush his hairline and winced. That was a definite possibility. Eyes still half closed, he groped around. _I'm in a car. A car. _His eyes shot open. _Emily! I remember now. We got run off the road. _Ignoring the pain in his head, he frantically searched the vehicle. _Oh, no. Where is she? Oh, God, please don't tell me she was thrown. Or worse, that maniac came and got her while I was knocked out. _"Emily!" came the guttural cry from his mouth.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily ducked down behind a patch of roadside weeds as a vehicle approached the scene of the accident. It slowed down and came to a stop. When she saw that it was an old pickup truck, and not the sedan that had run them off the road, she sighed with relief and stepped into the path of his headlights.

A man in his sixties stepped out of the driver's side and walked over to her. He had on an old baseball cap, a flannel shirt and overalls. He reminded her of her Uncle Ed, a cattle rancher in Oklahoma. Emily's eyes filled with tears as she ran to the man. "I need your help," she said, her voice breaking. "My boyfriend's hurt."

"Whoa, slow down, little lady," the farmer said. "Where's your boyfriend?"

"In the c-car," she stammered. "Someone ran us off the road." She grabbed his arm and began tugging him towards the ravine. "Please, I can't move him by myself."

"Okay, not a problem." The man allowed himself to be led down the embankment. "Someone ran you off the road, you say?"

Emily nodded. She dropped the man's arm and ran ahead to the vehicle. She hurried to the driver's side door, but Joe was gone.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe had eased himself out of the driver's side window, ignoring the intense pounding in his head, and stared at the field around him. She hadn't been thrown. He was sure of that. Based on how the car had been run off the road, there'd only be a few areas where she could have landed. Not to mention, his body would have blocked the driver's side window, and the front windshield was still intact. Joe touched his head again, feeling the makeshift bandage Emily had placed on him. _And she was obviously here to put this bandage on my head. _

His heart began racing. That left only one other explanation. The man pursuing them had returned for her. Joe's stomach twisted with fear. He needed to find her, but how? He was in the middle of who knows where, and even by his own untrained assessment, not in the best condition at the moment. He pressed forward, knowing he had to reach the road. _I have to get to a phone._ _I have to help her. I won't lose her. Not now, not when she's finally mine. _

He paused, blinking, as he tried to steady himself against the wooziness he was feeling. He staggered forward for another step or two, until he the blackness overtook him and he collapsed on the ground.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily didn't know what to think. _Where could he be?_ The tears spilled down her cheeks. _I bet he left and went to look for me. Oh, Joe. _She bit her lip, and turned from the car.

"Where are you going?" the farmer asked her. "I thought you said your boyfriend was in the car."

"He was," she replied, scanning the grassy area, "but he's not now."

"Did you get hit on the head, sweetheart?" the man asked.

"No. I don't know. Maybe," Emily said with a sigh, misunderstanding his question. "Joe was here when I went up to the road. He must have thought something happened to me and he got out of the car. He shouldn't be walking. He's hurt."

"Okay, well then he couldn't have gone far. Let's look around."

Emily swiped at the tears in her eyes and began to walk in the most likely direction she thought Joe would have taken. "Joe!" she called, tearfully. "Joe, where are you?" She headed towards the road, hoping he was going for help just as she did.

As she picked her way through the tall weeds along the embankment, she noticed a flash of white. Joe's sneakers. "Oh, no," she gasped. She ran forward, dropping to her knees as she spotted him, crumpled on the ground. "Joe!" she cried, reaching for him.

"Did you find him?" the farmer called.

"Yes, over here." Emily bent down and brushed his hair back. His head wound was still bleeding. She checked his pulse and his breathing, and finding them both to be strong, cradled his head in her lap, while she waited for the farmer to arrive. "Oh, Joe, please be okay. Please."

"Looks like he got a nice bonk on the head," the farmer commented as he approached Emily.

"That was from the accident." She looked up. "We need to get him some help."

"Well, you're in luck. You're on my property and my wife is a nurse." He bent over. "Let me just get him over my shoulder and into the truck. The house isn't more than a half mile from here."

Emily looked at the elderly man with a doubtful expression. "Can you lift him?"

"Honey, I lift sacks of grain every day that weigh more than he does. If you can get him into a sitting position, I'll take it from there."

She held Joe's head as she slid her legs out from under him. While she was raising his shoulders up from the ground, Joe stirred.

"W-what? What are you doing?" His voice was thick.

"Joe?" She braced him from behind as his eyes fluttered open.

"Em, I found you," he said weakly.

She smiled through her tears. "Yes, you found me."

"I was worried. Are you hurt?"

"No, but you are. So stay still and we'll get you out of here."

The farmer reached for Joe's arm, and he and Emily helped him to his feet.

"Can you walk, son? Or would you like me to carry you?"

Joe blinked and turned to the farmer. "No, I think I've got it. I'm just a little dizzy." He leaned against Emily as she held him around the waist with both arms and glanced at the farmer. "Who are you?"

"I just live down the road apiece," he explained. "I thought I heard a crash and when I got to the street, I spotted your girl coming for help." He started to lead them towards the truck. "Now let's go get you home. You took a nasty hit to the head, son."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily paced nervously back and forth while Mrs. Wilson, the farmer's wife, examined Joe's head injury. Mr. Wilson hung up their old-fashioned wall telephone and turned around. "David said he'll be along in a minute, Mother."

Mrs. Wilson nodded. "That's fine, dear." She dipped a gauze pad in a bowl of warm water. "I'm just going to clean up some of this blood and we'll see what we've got here."

Joe flinched as she touched the gauze to his head and a little sound of distress escaped from Emily. The farmer looked in her direction. "Now don't you be worrying none, little missy. He couldn't be in better hands. My wife's been a nurse for well over thirty years now. And my son David...that's who I was just talking to...he's a doctor and he'll be along in a little bit."

She nodded mutely, her eyes wide as she stared at Joe, who was seated in a red vinyl covered chair in front of Mrs. Wilson's Formica kitchen table, his head bent backwards slightly as the nurse daubed at his wound.

Mrs. Wilson looked up at Emily. "Do you want to come and hold this on his head, hon, while I check him for other injuries?"

Emily hurried over and reached out her shaking hand to hold Joe's gauze in place. The farmer's wife looked up at her. "Oh, you poor dear, you've had quite a shock, haven't you?" She turned to her husband. "Hank, would you make her a cup of chamomile tea, please?"

Mr. Wilson nodded and moved towards the stove. His wife patted Emily's hand. "Oh, your fingers are like ice, dear." A slightly worried look crossed her face. "As soon as we're finished with your beau here, I'm going to take a look at you."

Joe reached out for Emily's free hand and took it in his own. He gave her a wan smile. "I'm okay. Don't worry."

"I can't help it," she said and sniffled.

Mrs. Wilson smiled at her. "It's not too serious. Head wounds always bleed profusely. He just needs a few stitches."

The nurse moved her hands over Joe's clavicles and arms on both sides of his body. "My son David will check for any neurological problems, but really, I think he's going to be just fine."

"The police should be here in a few minutes, too. And we'll get a tow truck to come fetch your car out of that ditch in the morning." Mr. Wilson reached for a mug in a nearby cabinet. "Is there anybody you'd like us to call for you?"

"Um, yeah, my brother," Joe spoke up. "He'll come and get us."

"Not tonight he won't," Mrs. Wilson said firmly. "You two are both staying right here where I can keep an eye on you."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Joe protested. "You've already been so helpful. We don't want to put you out."

Mrs. Wilson stood and began putting items back in her first-aid kit. "You're not putting us out. You shouldn't be moved right now. And besides, your sweetheart has had a very traumatic time of it. I don't want her going anywhere until I'm sure she's all right."

Joe looked at Emily and for the first time saw how pale she was. Her body was trembling slightly and her fingers were still cold. "Honey, sit down," he ordered.

"Not until this bleeding stops," she said, adjusting the gauze against his wound.

Joe replaced her hand with his own. "It's not going to stop until the doctor stitches it up. Sit down."

Mr. Wilson approached the kitchen table with a mug of hot tea. "You'd best listen to him, young lady. You look like you're about to fall over."

Emily managed to get herself into the kitchen chair next to Joe and immediately encircled the mug of tea with both her hands to try and warm them. The back door to the kitchen opened and a man in his mid-thirties entered the room.

"Someone told me I have a patient waiting in here?"

Joe raised his hand and managed a smile. "That'd be me. The one with the gushing head wound."

Dr. Wilson paused and kissed his mother on the cheek as he passed her. "I'm surprised Florence Nightingale hasn't stitched you up already. She's much better at it than I am."

Mrs. Wilson waved her hand and gave a sheepish smile. "Maybe in my younger days, but I don't trust my eyesight so much anymore."

Dr. Wilson stood in front of Joe and lifted the bloodied gauze from his head to examine it. "Don't let her fool you. She's just being modest." He reached for his doctor's bag. "I'm David Wilson."

"Joe Hardy." He gestured to the table. "That's my girlfriend, Emily Clark. I'd really appreciate it if you'd make sure she's okay when you're done with me."

"I'd be happy to." He took out a syringe. "Now I'm going to need to numb this so I can work on it. And I won't lie. It's going to sting."

Joe nodded and Emily rose from her seat to take his hand.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"Think I'm going to make a surprise visit to Perriton early tomorrow morning," Frank announced as he walked through the door of the Hardy home.

"It's a school holiday, isn't it?" Fenton asked. "Sure he'll even be at the museum?"

"No, but I'm betting there's a good chance." Frank hung up his jacket in the coat closet. "And when I see him, I'm going to give him a friendly hello smack in his upper arm."

Fenton laughed. "If he falls over, writhing in pain from a stab wound near his shoulder, I'd say you've got your man."

Before Frank could reply, the telephone began to ring. Fenton held up a hand and stepped into his office to answer it. "Hello? Yes, this is the Hardy home. With whom am I speaking?"

Frank noticed the concerned look on his father's face as he entered the office and moved quietly toward the desk, perching himself on the corner.

"Mr. Wilson? And, you're from where?" Fenton gestured for the legal pad near Frank. "What happened to Joe and Emily?" He scribbled something, then handed the tablet to Frank, whose mouth dropped open as he read it.

"Car accident?" Frank mouthed.

Fenton nodded. "Are they all right?" A sigh escaped him. "Okay, yeah, that doesn't sound too bad. Yes, thank you. I'm very grateful for your help." Fenton nodded and motioned for the legal pad. He began writing down the Wilsons' address. "Yes. Thank you for letting them stay with you. I really appreciate it. And thank your son for me as well. Okay, we'll come to your house first thing in the morning if that's all right." He looked up at Frank, who nodded. "No, don't disturb him. As long as they're both fine, it can wait until tomorrow. Thank you again, Mr. Wilson." Fenton hung up the phone.

"Someone ran them off the road?" Frank asked.

"Yeah. Intentionally from what it sounds like." Fenton shook his head. "I don't know what to make of this."

Frank crossed his arms in front of him. "When did it happen?"

"About an hour ago."

"It couldn't have been Perriton."

"I know." Fenton sighed. "That's what has me confused. If Emily has something Perriton is looking for, it stands to reason that he's the one who's been harassing her, but now..."

"It doesn't make sense." Frank stood and began pacing the floor. "Are there two people looking for this 'something?'"

"Maybe. Or maybe the road rage incident has to do with something else."

"Like what?"

"I don't know," Fenton replied. "Maybe Joe can fill us in tomorrow. Without all the information, we can only speculate at this point."

"Are they okay?"

"Yeah. Joe took a hit to the head and had to get some stitches. The car slid into a ditch on a farmer's property and he rescued them," Fenton explained. "Luckily his son happens to be a doctor, so he came over and took care of Joe."

Frank grinned. "He has a hard head. He'll be fine."

"He got that from his old man, too," Fenton said with a smile. "Emily was pretty shaken up though."

"Poor thing. She's been through the wringer lately."

Fenton gave him a wry grin. "I'm sure your brother will take care of her. That Hardy charm and all."

"I'm sure he will, too." Frank clapped his hands together. "Looks like I'm off to the Wilsons' farm tomorrow instead of interrogating Perriton."

"I can move my schedule around a bit," Fenton told him. "I'll go pay a visit to Perriton."

"Thanks, Dad."

"No problem. I'll even slap him on the arm for you."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily stared down at Joe, who was stretched out on the leather recliner in the Wilsons' study where he was going to spend the night, and bit her lip. "Are you sure you're going to be okay here?"

"I'm fine," he assured her, adjusting his pillow and wincing.

"No, you're not," she replied, kneeling next to him. "I don't feel comfortable leaving you here by yourself." She gazed around the room. "How about I sleep on the couch?"

"How about you sleep here?" Joe patted the recliner invitingly. "There's plenty of room."

She feigned shock. "We've been together for what? Six hours? And already you're asking me to sleep with you? You're a fast mover, Joe Hardy."

He raised his eyebrows suggestively and Emily dissolved into giggles. "You're going to be very hard for me to resist, mister."

He gave her a lazy grin. "I'm counting on it."

She sat down next to him and swatted him gently. "What am I going to do with you?"

He rested his head against the back of the recliner. "Oh, I can think of a couple things.

She leaned over him. "Oh, really?"

Joe reached his hand up behind her neck and pulled her close. "Starting with this." He kissed her softly.

"Mmmm," Emily relaxed into him. "That was nice. But I think you need to rest."

"I am," he teased. "I'm lying down. Besides, Dr. Wilson didn't give me any other instructions except to keep my head elevated tonight." He kissed her again, more passionately this time.

Emily broke away, but kept her mouth close to his. "Yes, but shouldn't you be sleeping? Getting your strength back?"

Joe pressed his lips to hers once more and when the kiss ended, he murmured, "You're making me feel better. That's what you're supposed to do."

She giggled and touched her finger to the tip of his nose. "I think you're stretching the doctor's orders a bit, don't you?"

Joe ran his hands up and down her back longingly as he pulled her in for another deep kiss. "I think he would agree with me completely on this one."

"Hmmm, well, as your head nurse, I'm going to insist that you get your sleep right now." She cuddled into him, resting her head on his chest and pulling the comforter over both of them. "But, if you're a very good patient, I promise that some kissing therapy will be in order tomorrow."

Joe grinned as he closed his eyes. "I'm looking forward to it."

Emily leaned up and pressed her lips lightly to his. "Me too," she whispered.


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, Virtute and Leya! LOL at your being suspicious of everyone, Virtute. I do the exact same thing when I'm reading a mystery. I would be a horrible detective in real life. Leya, I'm glad you like the romance. I'm a sucker for it in a story. As for Fenton, I always liked the way he was portrayed on the show. I think his relationship with his sons was much more casual and easy than was portrayed in the books. It felt more fun to me and I want my Fenton to follow that pattern. Thanks again for reading!

Chapter 32

Joe opened his eyes slightly as the morning sun spilled through the wooden blinds and across his face. _Ouch._ He closed them quickly. _Why does my head hurt so much?_ He gingerly touched his hairline and felt the gauze bandage there. _Oh yeah, because of the idiot who ran us off the road. _He noticed a weight seemed to be lying across his chest and stomach and he gazed down as he tried to lift his eyelids again. Emily. She was curled up into him like a kitten, using his chest as her pillow. Her hand was splayed open across his stomach and Joe noticed that their legs were entwined. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth. He'd never spent the night with a woman before. He'd had sex with a couple of women, but sleeping through the night cuddled together had not been a part of it. He glanced down and noticed they were both fully clothed. _Sleeping together without sex was definitely new._

He felt Emily stir, and he brought his hand up to her hair and stroked it gently. He smiled again as she sighed softly and snuggled closer to him, still asleep. Contentment washed over him as he reached his other arm around her, wondering why this kind of closeness in his previous relationships had never felt right. He dropped a light kiss on top of Emily's head. It definitely felt right now. He watched as her eyes fluttered open and she took in her surroundings. He could see the panicked look on her face until she turned and caught his eye. It was replaced by relief as she hugged him with her free arm.

"Good morning." Her expression held a touch of shyness which made Joe smile.

"Good morning," he said in a soft, husky voice as he watched her. The smile on her face was like sunshine and he thought he wouldn't mind waking up like this every day. _Yeah, like Aunt Gertrude would go for that._

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Like I was hit by a car, bounced my head off the dashboard a few times, and rolled into a ditch." He bent down and kissed her forehead. "How about you?"

Emily giggled. "Like I was attacked by a mad man in my own home, then two days later hit by a car and rolled into a ditch."

"You're one up on me."

"Yes, but my head didn't bounce off the dashboard." She looked up at him, her eyes twinkling. "My new boyfriend threw himself on top of me and kept me from being hurt."

"Wow, he did? What a stud. I need to meet this guy."

"I think you'd like him."

"Yeah? Tell me about him."

Emily sank back into Joe's arms. "Hmm, let's see. Well, he's very good looking. And he's extremely smart."

"You think so? Smart?"

"One of the smartest guys I've ever met."

"Really? Let's hear some more."

"He's also very sweet."

"Sweet? That doesn't sound very studly."

"Oh, no, sweet is good." Emily propped her chin on Joe's chest and gazed into his eyes. "I like sweet guys."

"Okay," Joe nodded. "Just don't repeat that to his older brother. He'd never live it down."

She giggled. "He's also patient. Even when I was being very obstinate."

"You were obstinate?"

Emily nodded solemnly. "Very. I was letting my previous experience with dating cloud my judgment. Bad boyfriend history."

"Well, whoever you dated before this guy must have been a loser."

"Big time." She traced her finger along the morning stubble of Joe's beard. "Unfortunately, I kind of lumped all guys into that category. I know better now."

"So, you're not afraid to date this new guy?"

"I'm a little scared. I'm worried about my major and my career. It's a demanding one and the head of the department doesn't take too kindly to 'distractions' as he calls them."

Joe nodded. "I'm willing to bet your new boyfriend would be happy to lie low around the Art History department bigwigs."

Emily smiled. "That would be very considerate of him."

"I'm sure he wouldn't want to get in the way of your plans." Joe reached forward and slipped his hand around the back of her head, pulling her toward him. "He would want you to go for exactly what you want in life and support you in the best way he could."

"And I would do the same for him." Their lips were inches apart. "How do you know all this about him?"

Joe kissed her softly. "Well, like I said...he sounds like a stud. They're all pretty much like that." He brought his lips over hers, kissing her lazily and enjoying the warmth that spread through his body. After a few minutes, he leaned back and sighed with contentment. He twirled a strand of Emily's long hair around his finger. "You could mention that stud thing to his older brother though. That would be okay."

She winked at him. "I'll do that."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"Joe, are you in here?" Frank called from outside the Wilsons' study door as he pushed it open. He found his brother lying on the recliner with Emily curled into him. He raised an eyebrow. "I guess I should have knocked."

Joe waved his hand. "You're fine. We already put our clothes back on."

Emily swatted at him. "You're bad," she said with a smile.

Frank cleared his throat. "Either one of you want to fill me in on what's going on?"

"Going on with me and Emily or going on with what happened last night?" Joe asked.

"Both." Frank sat on the sofa across from them and waited patiently.

Joe shrugged. "Um, some nut job tried to kill us by running us off the road and Emily and I are a couple now."

Frank leaned forward, clasping his hands together and smiled. "Well, congratulations on the couple thing. It's about time. As for the car thing..."

"Yeah." Joe winced as he adjusted himself in the recliner. "That's opened up a whole new can of worms."

Emily patted Joe on the chest. "I'm going to go see if Mrs. Wilson needs any help while you two do your detective thing. I can smell breakfast cooking from here."

Joe smiled at her and kissed her hand. "Save some for me."

"I'll make you something special." She leaned down and kissed his forehead, being careful to avoid his injury, and quietly slipped out of the study.

"Barf," Frank said with a grin.

Joe pointed a finger at him. "You just wait. As soon as I can get you and Nancy Drew in the same room again–."

"Stop it," Frank interrupted. "Let's get back to the case. What can you tell me about what went on last night?"

Joe explained as much as he could remember, while Frank took notes. After a few minutes, he shook his head. "I don't know. This guy was clearly out to kill you two. It's not the same MO as the guy who went after Emily before."

"You think it's someone different?"

"Maybe. Or maybe the guy who went after Emily is getting more desperate."

"Meaning, he couldn't find what he wanted from her, so now he thinks he needs to kill her?"

"Possibly. There's also the theory that maybe he was after you and not Emily."

"Me?" Joe looked surprised. "Why would someone be after me?"

"You are cursed, you know," Frank chuckled. He leaned back against the sofa and tapped his notepad with his pen. "Dad and I also found out some interesting stuff at the museum last night. We can try and put it all together when we get home. For now, let's see what the local police come up with here. There might be some clues at the crash site that could help."

"Well, we have to get Emily's car towed, that's for sure." Joe brought the recliner forward, and paused to allow the dizziness he felt to pass. "You know the guy shot at us. A bullet might help. Or even the paint on the car. He rammed into us more than once."

Before Frank could reply, Emily stuck her head around the study door. "Breakfast is ready. And there's a cinnamon roll with your name on it," she said to Joe.

"Thanks, baby," Joe said as he slowly stood up.

Frank moved forward to support him. "Double barf," he murmured under his breath.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

After a wonderful breakfast and a profuse round of thanks to the Wilsons, Frank, Joe and Emily piled into the Hardys' van for the short ride to the crash site. When they arrived, they found a tow truck getting ready to pull Emily's little Honda out of the ditch.

"Wow," Frank said as he walked around the van and surveyed the car lying on its side. "That must have been some impact." He put his hands on his hips and turned to his brother, who was walking towards him slowly, his arm draped over Emily's shoulder to steady himself. "You two are lucky you weren't hurt much worse than you were."

"No kidding," Joe replied, shaking his head. "It felt like we were falling down the Grand Canyon."

"We could have been shot, too," Emily added. "Joe was incredible. The way he drove the car and outmaneuvered that guy..."

"If I had truly outmaneuvered him, we wouldn't have ended up in the ditch."

"Baloney," Frank spoke up. "You would have ended up dead if you hadn't kept your head on straight." He patted Joe on the back and grinned at him. "Great job, bro."

"Thanks," he said. Then he sighed as he looked at Emily. "I'm sorry about your car."

She waved her hand. "It doesn't matter." She lightly touched the bandage on Joe's head. "I just wish you hadn't been hurt."

"I'm fine," he assured her.

"Joe has a hard head, Emily," Frank smiled. "For him, this is mild. Remind me later and I'll tell you about some of the trips he's taken to the ER. I think he has a plaque on the wall at Bayport General for 'Most Traumatic Injuries before Age Eighteen'."

She paled visibly. "I don't think I want to know anything about that."

Joe glared at him. "Frank is exaggerating." He ignored the snort from his brother and turned to Emily. "Why don't you sit in the van for a minute. We just want to examine the car and we'll be right back."

"I'm okay," she protested. "And besides, you need help staying upright."

Joe kissed her forehead. "I'm fine. And I'd feel a whole lot better if you were safe in the van."

Emily stared at him and Joe raised his eyebrows at her. "Please?"

"Okay. This time," she relented. "But only this time."

"Thank you," he said, giving her a quick hug. "We won't be long. I promise."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Fenton Hardy arrived at the door of the Bayport Art Museum, with Callie Shaw in tow, at ten-thirty a.m. He flashed his badge to the police officer on duty, who nodded and opened the main door. As Fenton passed inside, he turned to Callie. "Now, I need you to be my eyes and ears. I'm going to be concentrating on questioning Perriton. You keep your eyes on everything else going on around here and let me know if you see anything suspicious, got it?"

Callie nodded and pulled out a small notebook. "I'm ready," she said with a smile.

"Good girl." He glanced up and whispered, "Well, what do you know? There's our suspect now." He called out a greeting and Mr. Perriton looked up. Fenton strode across the lobby, holding his hand out. He reached Perriton, took his hand, and gave him a resounding clap on the right upper arm. The man didn't even flinch.

"Can I help you with something, Mr. Hardy?" Perriton asked in a clipped tone.

"As a matter of fact, you can." Fenton looked around. "Is there somewhere we can speak privately?"

"I'm afraid I don't have much time."

"This won't take long. Emily Clark was attacked in her home the other night and we're questioning everyone at the museum."

"Emily attacked?" Perriton looked startled. "How? Why?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," Fenton said, gesturing towards an open conference room door. "Please, may we ask you a few questions?"

"Of course," he said. He paused at the entrance and looked toward the main desk. "Kim, hold all my calls, please."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"What was that all about?" Frank asked Joe as they stepped down the ravine. "Why do you want Emily in the van?"

"I don't want to upset her any more, Frank." Joe paused as they reached the Honda. "This guy was trying to kill us, not scare us."

"Yeah, I know." Frank sighed. "Dad and I thought we might have had a lead last night, but now with this..." he gestured towards the wreckage, "I'm not sure."

"What happened last night?" Joe wanted to know.

Frank explained his and Fenton's visit to the museum, their discovery of the guard uniform in the stairwell, and Perriton's subsequent outburst in his office. "It seemed like he was missing something. And, by what he'd searched through in his office, it was clearly a file or a piece of paper of some sort."

Joe was thoughtful. "Just like the guy after Emily."

"Yeah, the MO was identical. Both Dad and I thought Perriton was that guy. But this accident throws in a wrench in it."

"Perriton couldn't have been here running us off the road and in his office at the same time."

"Unfortunately, no."

"So what does that mean?" Joe sighed. "Who tried to kill us? And why?"

"Looks like we've got ourselves another million dollar question," Frank said.


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: **Thanks for the review, Leya! Yeah, Joe's girlfriends really had a hard time on that show! Must have been why they only lasted a week. LOL There will be plenty of danger ahead here, too. Because I like that sort of thing. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 33

Fenton leaned forward and rested his arms on the conference room table. He clasped his hands together and stared at Perriton.

Perriton shifted in his seat. "Is Emily all right?"

"She's fine. She's staying at my house until this ordeal is over."

Perriton nodded. "That's good. She's a lovely girl. I hate seeing her dragged into this mess."

"It is a bit of a mess, isn't it?" Fenton said. "Unfortunately, she seems to be at the dead center of it."

Perriton looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Fenton paused. "Emily seems to have something that somebody wants very badly. Badly enough to attack her in her home in the dead of night to find." He leaned back in his chair. "Emily claims she doesn't know what that something is, and I believe her. What we've determined is this guy is after some sort of paper or file or something of that nature." He leaned forward again and stared intently at Perriton. "I think you might know what it is."

Perriton returned Fenton's stare. "Now why on earth would you think that?"

"Hmmm." Fenton stood. "Well, for starters, this is your museum, your responsibility. I would hope that you would have some sort of grasp of what's going on around here. That is your job, is it not?"

Perriton looked bored. "Yes, Mr. Hardy, that is my job. Must have taken you hours of grueling detective work to come to that conclusion."

Fenton continued, ignoring the gibe. "Rumor has it, Mr. Perriton, that you may have also have misplaced some important papers around here. Ones you're searching for quite intently."

Perriton seemed startled and looked up at Fenton sharply. "What makes you say that?"

Fenton shrugged. "The hours of grueling detective work pay off occasionally."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you?" Fenton walked around the conference table and stopped in front of Perriton. "What about that extra entrance to your office? Know anything about that?"

Perriton leaned back in his chair. "Only what the police have told me. I'm much too busy to be checking out my lavatory for secret passageways, Mr. Hardy."

Fenton stopped in front of him. "Mr. Perriton, your memory seems to be quite lacking in a number of areas. My suggestion to you would be to think a little harder about some of your answers to these questions."

"I don't have to _think _any harder about anything, Mr. Hardy. Except how I'm going to put my museum back together after this colossal disaster that has befallen us." He stood. "And right now you are wasting a great deal of my valuable time that could be spent toward that effort."

Fenton stood to the side and made a sweeping gesture in the direction of the conference room door. "By all means," he said. "If you don't know anything, then you don't know anything."

As Perriton walked past him, Fenton spoke. "But just so you know...the detective work I've done so far on this case has not even begun to approach what I would consider grueling. And when it does, there won't be anything you can hide from me."

Perriton sighed as he reached the door. "I wish you well in your efforts, Mr. Hardy. I also want to see the person behind all this brought to justice. Most likely, more than you do."

He stepped through the door and let it shut behind him. Callie began to applaud. "That was brilliant."

"Not really," Fenton said with a sigh. "I didn't get anything out of him."

"You scared him," she protested. "And, he _is _hiding something. If the droplets of sweat beading on his upper lip were any indication. Not to mention, the nervous way he shifted in his chair."

"Excellent observations, Callie."

She smiled. "Thank you. Now, what's the next step?"

"Try and find out what he's hiding."

"How do we do that?"

"You got me," Fenton said.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"How are you feeling?" Frank asked Joe as they drove away from the crash site, shortly after Emily's car was towed out of the ditch.

"Pretty good, actually," Joe said. "I'm not woozy anymore and the painkillers have taken care of the 'sledgehammer to the head' feeling."

"Good enough to stop at the museum before we go home?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I've got a hunch."

"About what?"

"The charmstones," Frank said. "I'm almost positive someone put them in the shipment boxes after they arrived at the museum. And I think we can prove it."

"Care to enlighten me as to how?"

"The bill of lading", Frank said.

"The what?" Joe asked.

"The bill of lading. It's a document that comes with goods that are shipped. It has a lot of information on it, but what we're interested in is the weight of the freight." Frank looked in the rearview mirror at Emily. "Where would the bill of lading for the claymore be?"

"Um, well, we usually file those in the receiving room after the shipment is unpacked."

"Would we be able to see it?" Frank asked.

"Of course," she replied. "We can check as soon as we get there."

"Good." Frank turned to Joe. "Dad said he was headed over to the museum this morning to interrogate Perriton. I'm interested to see if he found out anything substantial."

Emily's eyes widened. "Do you think Mr. Perriton had something to do with all this?"

"We're suspicious." Frank filled her in on what he and Fenton discovered the previous night in the museum.

"Wow." Emily sat back in her seat. "That would be awful. D-do you think he's the one who attacked me?"

"Dad's working on that right now, Em. We'll know more when we get there," Frank told her.

"Just how is Dad 'working on that?'" Joe asked.

Frank grinned. "He's going to slug Perriton in the arm."

"Oh, so if he drops to the ground like a sack of wheat, we've got our man?"

"It might not be sophisticated, but I think it will give us the answer we're looking for," Frank said. "According to the lab, Emily dug that shard of glass pretty deeply into her attacker's arm. He would have needed stitches."

"Way to go," Joe said and smiled back at her.

Emily looked a little nauseated and gave an involuntary shiver. Joe patted her leg reassuringly.

Frank checked his rearview mirror again. "We're closing in now, Em. It won't be long."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"What else is on the list for today?" Callie asked Fenton as they exited the conference room.

Fenton took a look at his notepad. "I want to have a closer look at the security tapes from the night of the banquet. Collig has those in evidence at headquarters. I also want to question Mitch about his activities that night and his whereabouts over the past few days. I need to see who has access to his office on a regular basis and take a look at the security tapes from the past two weeks."

"That's going to take forever, isn't it? Looking at all those tapes?"

"Yeah." He grinned at Callie. "Don't tell the boys I'm paying you double time for it, okay?"

Callie made a zipping motion across her mouth as they headed toward the security office. "My lips are sealed."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

As soon as they arrived in the museum, Emily led Frank and Joe to the receiving room. She turned on the overhead fluorescent lights then proceeded to a nearby filing cabinet. Reaching for a set of keys in her purse, she unlocked a drawer and began rifling through its contents. "Here it is." She brought a file over to the examination table and Frank turned on the metal light hanging above it.

"What does it say?" Joe wanted to know.

Emily scanned the form. "Okay, the 'description of commodity' space says 'one claymore sword.'" She dragged her finger across the page. "Weight says 'five and one half pounds.'"

"What about the weight of the box?" Frank asked. "Is that anywhere on there?"

"It says the container is a specially made case and that it weighs four pounds."

Frank paused for a moment and glanced around. "Emily, is that container still here somewhere?"

"Actually, I think it is." She moved towards the area cordoned off by the chain link fencing. "Evan didn't want anything done with the packaging until he'd heard from Edinburgh about the whether or not they'd sent the witch box." She turned the dial on the padlock and popped it open. "We just put the packaging material in there."

Joe stepped inside the cage and grabbed the box. As he brought it into the light, he peered inside. "Looks just like it did on the day we unpacked it." He set it on the examining table. "What are you thinking, bro?"

"Do you have a freight scale here, Emily?"

She pointed to the other side of the room. "Right next to the door. The packages are weighed as they come in and then the information is entered into a log."

"Perfect." Frank took the box over to the scale and stepped back while the numbers registered. "Okay, it says four and one-half pounds."

"That's more than what the bill thing said it should be," Joe said.

Frank pulled some Styrofoam out of the box and set the box aside. "Styrofoam weight is exactly half a pound." He turned to Emily. "Where's that log book?"

"Hanging on the wall." She walked over and lifted up some of the sheets of paper attached to a three-ring clipboard. "Um, okay, let me see. Here it is. The shipment weighed ten pounds even on arrival."

Frank looked at the bill of lading again. "Ten pounds when shipped. Ten pounds on arrival." He grinned. "Someone put that witch box in the shipment after it got here."

Joe chuckled. "Congratulations. You're back to being the smart one."

"What?" Emily asked.

"Inside joke," Joe said, as he moved to stand next to her. "I'll explain it to you later."

"So, that means it was someone here," she said thoughtfully. "Someone who had access to this room and to the shipments. Mr. Perriton?"

"Maybe," Frank mused. "Or maybe not. The two situations might actually be two separate crimes, committed for different reasons. Em, could you get us a list of everyone who has a key to this room and the combination to the cage and people who usually work in this room, even if they don't have keys?"

"Yeah, sure." She turned to Joe. "But this still means it's someone on the inside, doesn't it?"

He noticed the frightened look in her eyes. "It's okay, Em. We're only one or two steps behind him now."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Fenton and Callie entered the museum security office to find a lone security guard that Fenton didn't recognize, manning the bank of cameras.

"Excuse me, we're looking for Mitch," he said by way of a greeting.

"He's not here," the guard replied.

"Do you know where we might find him?"

The guard shrugged. "No idea. I was told he wasn't coming in today. Something about his mother." He pushed a switch and adjusted a camera to a wider angle. "I think she's in the hospital. They probably know at the front desk."

Fenton turned to Callie, who nodded and headed out the door. He leaned against the table where the man was seated. "So, how long have you worked here...?"

"Bill," the man replied. "A few months." He glanced at Fenton. "You're that police detective, aren't you?"

"I was a police detective in New York City for many years. Now I'm a private detective. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"Shoot," the guard said.

"How many people have access to this office on a regular basis?"

"Well, anyone can come in here. It isn't locked during business hours." The guard leaned back in his chair. "If you mean who has a key, that would be Mitch, myself, Duncan and Perriton."

Fenton gestured with his head to the bank of monitors. "Who knows how to work these cameras?"

"Me, Mitch, and a couple of the other guards. We have the code to turn them on and off, but we can't do anything with the recorded material."

"Were you on duty the night of the banquet?"

"We all were. I was stationed near the entrance to check out who was coming and going." He sighed. "Nobody looked the least bit suspicious."

"I see." Fenton looked up as Callie returned to the room and nodded at him. "Excuse me. You don't mind if I come back a little later and take a look at some of your tapes, do you?"

"Knock yourself out," Bill replied. "We've already been told about the warrant, and I think the police chief has most of them by now, but be my guest."

Fenton nodded and stepped into the hallway. "What's up?" he asked Callie.

"I called Bayport General. Apparently, Mitch's mother had a stroke and was admitted around three this morning. He's been there ever since."

"Okay. Well, I guess it isn't urgent that I speak to him right now. I think I'll head to the station for awhile. How do you feel about looking through tapes?"

"Pretty good." Callie smiled. "The double time completely changed my mind about it."

Fenton chuckled as they headed towards the entrance of the museum. "I thought it might."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

The phone rang in the receiving room and Emily startled. She picked it up while Frank and Joe looked over the shipping crate the claymore arrived in.

"Emily said the container was closed and sealed when she went to open it to catalog the sword," Frank remarked.

Joe nodded. "Yeah, which means between the time it arrived and the time it was cataloged, the perp had to come in here, open the crate and the container, put the witch box in, and seal the whole thing up again."

"And do it in a way that wouldn't make anyone here think it was tampered with."

"So, this person had to have a working knowledge of how these things are shipped."

Emily hung up the phone. "That was Kim. The insurance company wants to speak to me about the stolen non-existent artifacts again. I need to take the call in my office where the paperwork is."

Joe moved to her side. "Let me walk you there."

"It's just down the hall, Joe. I'll be fine." She patted him on the chest and gave him a quick kiss.

He followed her to the door. "I'm going to stand here until you get there."

She smiled, then jumped backwards as the door to the receiving room flew open. Evan was standing on the other side.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't know anyone was in here. I needed some paperwork for that pain in the ass police chief." He paused and stared at Joe. "What the hell happened to you?"

Joe lightly touched the gauze bandage on his forehead. "Got driven off the road into a ditch." He pointed to Evan's right arm which was resting against his chest in a sling. "What happened to you?"

Evan rolled his eyes. "I chipped my elbow when I slipped and fell on the front steps of my brownstone in the rain. I was trying to hail a cab and the damn driver wouldn't even slow down." An annoyed expression crossed his face. "The doctor said I had to keep it on for at least three weeks. I can't do that. I need both hands in the art business."

"Gosh, I'm sorry, Evan," Emily said. "I've got to run though. The insurance company is on hold."

Joe stood in the doorway and watched as she walked down the hall to her office. He glanced back at Evan. "Chipped elbow, huh? Bet that hurts."

Evan grimaced. "Yeah, I get shooting pains all the way up to my shoulder from it. Thank goodness they gave me some good drugs." He crossed the room to the filing cabinet, opened a drawer and grabbed several files. "Of course, the doctor did mention I shouldn't be operating heavy machinery while I'm taking them." He strolled across the room and paused at the entrance. "You think a car is considered heavy machinery?" He grinned at the brothers. "Wait. Don't answer that. I have to drive back to the city." He disappeared into the hall.

Joe stood next to Frank and crossed his arms. "A chipped elbow?"

"Wonder if that really means a lengthy stab wound from a shard of glass?"

"You know, that's funny. I was thinking the same thing myself."


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, Virtute and Jackie! I really appreciate your taking time to comment. Short chapter today, but it's going to get the ball rolling for what's to come. Muhahahahaha...lots of nasty stuff on the horizon. LOL Thanks to everyone reading!

Chapter 34

Emily seemed preoccupied with her thoughts when they all met in the lobby a half hour later, and Joe resolved he was going to spend the rest of the day trying to get her to laugh.

"Let me check the files at the front desk for a minute. There's a key list in the drawer so volunteers know who to call if there's a problem," she explained.

Joe patted her arm and smiled. "Okay. And stop worrying."

She nodded and walked towards the reception desk. Joe turned to Frank. "It's not looking very good for the museum bigwigs in this case, is it?"

Before Frank could respond, Emily let out a loud gasp. Joe quickly ran toward her. "What is it?" he demanded.

Her hand shook as she pointed to a pink rose lying across the desk with a card attached to it. Her name was written in the same type of awkward capital lettering as the previous note found in her locker. "He was here," she whispered, clutching at Joe. "He's not going to give up."

Joe pulled her into a tight hug as Frank came over to examine the rose. His lips formed a thin line as he turned to his brother. "We need something we can use as an evidence bag."

"Mitch's office," Joe said, as he stroked Emily's hair soothingly. "He has plastic bags near the coffee machine."

Frank nodded and turned to walk away when a loud voice echoed through the lobby. "Emily?"

She looked up as Brian, from the adults with disabilities program, came toward her.

"Emily what's wrong? Are you sad?"

She hastily wiped at her eyes and gave Brian a wobbly smile. "No, I'm not sad. I'm surprised you're here though. I thought you were going to stay at your house for awhile. Are you feeling better?"

He smiled shyly at her. "I didn't want to stay away. I was worried, because I knew you were still working here. I'm back to protect you." He puffed up his chest and flexed his biceps. "I'm strong and I'm going to stop the bad guys."

She gave him a genuine smile then. "Yes, you are strong, and I'm so happy you've come back to work. We've missed you."

"I brought you something to make you feel better." He gestured toward the desk. "Did you see my flower?"

"Y-your flower?" Emily stepped out of Joe's embrace and moved closer to Brian. "The pink rose? Did you leave that here for me?"

He nodded and beamed. "Yep. I watched a show about someone who had a secret admirer and I decided I was going to be your secret admirer."

Joe stepped up to Emily and quickly slipped his arm around her waist as she began to sway. "Brian, have you left other roses for Emily here at the museum?"

He smiled broadly. "Yep. I left one in her office and in her locker. Did you see them, Emily? Did you guess that I was your secret admirer?"

Emily's voice shook slightly. "I did find them, and no, I most definitely did not guess that it was you." She took a deep breath to steady herself. "Did you leave notes with the other roses?"

"Only the second one. I wrote your name on it so nobody else would think it was for them." He picked up the note on the desk and handed it to Emily. "We have a rose bush near the front porch at home. I thought the flowers were pretty...just like you." Brian blushed and hung his head.

"Oh, Brian, that was very sweet. Thank you so much. It's a lovely rose."

Joe cleared his throat. "Um, Brian? The other times you left Emily the roses? Do you remember anyone else being around her office or her locker when you were there?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Are you sure? It's really important. We need to know if someone else was there."

"No. I walked down to Emily's office and left the flower by her door."

"Was her office door unlocked?" Frank wanted to know.

"I think so. I think maybe it was already open. I didn't go inside though." He smiled. "I wanted it to be a secret, so I just left the flower and ran."

"What about her locker?" Joe asked. "Was it open, too?"

Brian paused long enough for Joe to start fidgeting. Finally he spoke. "Yeah, it was open. It was messy. Her books were falling out." He smiled at Joe. "But I fixed them. Then I put the flower on top and closed the door."

"That must have been why it was jammed," Emily said to Joe in a low voice.

"Brian, did you notice anyone else in the locker room that morning?" Joe continued.

"Um, I think...I think there was a guy."

"A guy?" Frank spoke up. "A guy who works here?"

"Maybe. Yeah, maybe he works here."

"Was it someone you know?" Frank prompted.

Brian shook his head. "Maybe."

Joe gave an exasperated sigh. "What does 'maybe' mean? Do you know him or don't you?"

Brian looked flustered. "I don't know if I know him. I can't remember."

Emily rested her hand on Joe's arm and he relaxed slightly. "I'm sorry, Brian. It's just really important that we find out who the man was that you saw that morning. We don't mean to be impatient. Take your time and think about it," he said.

"Is he a bad man?" Brian looked worried. "Is he the bad man who hurt Duncan?"

"We don't know," Frank said. "That's what we're trying to figure out."

"I don't remember." Brian was looking visibly distressed now. "I don't know any bad men. I'm not bad."

Emily rushed over to him. "No, you're not bad at all. You're a good guy. That's why Frank and Joe were asking you to help. They're detectives. Sort of like policemen. They're trying to catch the bad man."

"If I help Frank and Joe am I a policeman, too?"

Emily nodded. "Almost. You'd be a detective, just like they are."

Brian grinned. "I'd like that. I'll try harder to remember, okay?"

Emily patted his shoulder and smiled. "That would be wonderful. If you remember something, you tell Mrs. Larson at your home and have her call me."

"Okay." Brian moved toward the seating area in the lobby. "I'm going to stay right here and think until I remember something."

"That's great," Emily told him. "And thank you again for the rose. It's very pretty."

Joe tapped Frank on the arm while Emily opened the desk drawer to get the key list she'd originally come for. "What do you think?"

"I think he's seen our man. But I seriously doubt if he can identify him," Frank said with a sigh.

Joe nodded. "Well, maybe this means the guy isn't as much of a sicko as we thought. If he didn't leave the roses, I think he's just after the information."

"Yeah, but now apparently he's willing to kill Emily to get it." Frank looked over at his brother. "And you too."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Duncan Campbell eased himself out of the wing chair in front of his fireplace and sighed. _I've got to get my student reports finished by five o'clock. With everything that's been going on, I've totally lost track of time. The semester's half over. _He sighed. _The only good thing about that is soon it will be completely over and I can get away from this cursed place forever. _

He pulled out the files he had on his interns and lowered himself into his desk chair. After making a few notations for Kim, he turned to Emily's file. He leaned back and began reading her student information page. Something jumped out at him and he paused. He sat up straight and stared at the paper in front of him. _She's a Campbell. Good night, she's a bloody Campbell!_ He looked again. Her mother's maiden name appeared before him in vivid black ink. There was no mistaking it. Caroline Campbell.

Duncan threw the paper down on his desk. _It's Emily. It's all Emily. She's doing it. She's bewitched me and everything and everybody involved with this exhibit._ He scrubbed at his face as he leaned back in his leather desk chair. _She's got to be stopped. Before everything falls apart. She's got to be stopped. _

He looked at the file again. The name Campbell seemed to leap off the page at him. Mocking him. _Elizabeth Campbell, you are not going to win this time. This time the MacLeans are going to finish what they should have years ago. You tried to kill Lachlan and then cried wolf and played the martyr when you were only getting what you deserved. Not again. Not this time. Now it's a Campbell who will have to suffer. A Campbell who will pay the ultimate price for your sins. Then this will all be over and the MacLeans will finally be avenged._

A malevolent grin spread over Duncan's face_. This is my destiny. To avenge my clan and right the wrong that was done to us all those years ago. To finally give Laird Lachlan MacLean his due._ He glanced at the file on his desk. _Emily Elizabeth Campbell Clark, the time has come for you to meet your destiny._


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: **Thank you for the reviews, Jackie and Virtute! I love reading your comments! The "rose left behind for the victim" is so cliche (especially in campy 70s TV shows), that I wanted to have a little fun with it and take it in a different direction. And now...the serious stuff begins. Hope you enjoy it! Thanks to everyone reading!

Chapter 35

Joe entered the Bayport Museum right after lunch the next day. He stopped at the front desk and gave Kim a questioning look. She smiled.

"She's in a meeting, but she said she'd be headed to her office after that. I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you waited for her there."

Joe grinned his thanks and headed downstairs. Kim sighed as she watched him walk away. _That boy can sure wear a pair of jeans. _The phone jangled on her desk and she picked it up. "Bayport Art Museum."

"Is this Kim?"

"Yes, is this Duncan?"

"Yes. Kim, listen to me very carefully. How badly do you want to keep your job?"

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe sat in Emily's chair and put his feet up on her desk while he waited for her to return. He stacked his hands behind his head and leaned back against the headrest, thinking he might catch a quick nap. He had just closed his eyes when her phone began to ring. Joe smiled as he heard Emily's voice asking the caller to please leave a message. The beep sounded and a deep male voice speaking in a distinctive Scottish brogue was heard on the other end. "Hey baby, are you there?" Joe quickly sat up and stared at the phone. "Damn, I must have missed you. And speaking of missing you, I cannot wait to see you tonight. I've been thinking about you all day. You and that hot little number you were wearing last week. I'm thinking I ripped it off you too fast to get a really good look at it." The voice chuckled. "Great idea you had about stringing that Hardy kid along for a little while. He seems to have fallen for it." His voice became low and throaty. "Of course, how could he resist you?" He sighed. "I know I really shouldn't be leaving this message on your voice mail. I don't want anyone finding out about us." He paused. "Listen, just use your key to get into the house this afternoon. We'll have dinner and then spend the whole evening in bed. I can't wait." The phone clicked and the line went dead.

Joe was reeling. His chest was contracting so hard he didn't think he could breathe. _She's using me. She's using me to cover up an affair with Duncan. How could I be so stupid? Her reluctance to get involved with me? It's because she's really with him, not because she had problems with her previous boyfriend. I'm just her cover. It's him she wants. _Joe began pacing the floor. He was shaking. _How could she do this? She's making a fool out of me. _He shook his head. _Well, that ends now._

As if on cue, the office door opened and Emily entered. A look of surprise crossed her face. "Hi, Joe. I didn't expect to see you here."

He turned and Emily stepped back when she saw the look in his eyes. He straightened up fully as he pinned her with his gaze. "No kidding."

"Joe?"

"How long were you going to do this? How long were you going to keep playing me for a fool?" His voice was tight with tension.

Emily seemed completely confused. "I-is something wrong?"

"Is something wrong?" Joe snorted. "Oh, that's priceless. I heard the message from your _boyfriend_."

"My boyfriend?" She moved toward him and he stepped out of her reach. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't. I'm not as stupid as I apparently look." He exhaled forcefully, struggling to suppress the hurt that was threatening to overwhelm him. "I heard every word. All about how you and Duncan had such a hot night together. What you were wearing. What he's got planned for you two tonight." He shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. "I must be the dumbest guy in the world."

"I really don't what's going on..." Emily began. "But if you'd just–."

"No. Just stop it. Okay?" He moved across the room trying to distance himself from her physically so he could think. "I guess I must have seemed like the most logical cover for an affair with your professor, huh?" He laughed harshly. "Yep, I admit it. I was an easy mark."

"Joe, please–"

"That's why you were so reluctant to get involved with me, wasn't it?" He shook his head. "It all makes sense now. You weren't afraid of a relationship with me. You already had one…with Duncan."

Emily looked stunned.

Joe took another unsteady breath as he met her gaze. The pain in his chest was crushing him, making it hard for him to breathe. Hard for him to think. "You know…I thought you liked me. I thought we might have something really special together." He closed his eyes briefly. "Turns out it was all a lie."

"If you'd just tell me what's going on, I'm sure I can explain." She moved next to him, lightly touching his arm. He yanked it away as if he'd been burned. "Please, Joe. There's obviously been a terrible misunderstanding."

"Yeah, there has. And apparently it's all been on my part." He glanced at her. "I know what I heard. I don't know what you can say that could possibly explain it away."

"Explain what away?" Emily tried again to move closer to him, but Joe walked toward the office door. She stopped. "Joe, I don't know what you think you heard, but it's not true." She looked at him pleadingly. "I'm not seeing anyone else but you."

He reached for the door handle and swung it open. "Emily…" He sighed heavily. "I can't do this right now. I need some air. I need some space." He looked back to see her standing there, her eyes filled with tears and her expression one of total shock. "I can't talk to you right now. I just can't," he said as he walked into the hall, closing the door behind him.

She heard him smash his fist against the wall as he moved down the corridor. Her breath was coming in gasps and she had to sit down. As she collapsed into her chair, she spotted the phone with the message light still blinking. With shaking hands, she pushed the "replay" button. As Duncan's voice came over the speaker, she gasped. By the time his message was over, she was furious. With tears streaming down her face, she reached for the receiver to call Duncan. _No,_ she thought. _I'm going to take care of this in person. _

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe's mind was swimming as Duncan's message replayed over and over in his head. He couldn't sort out the facts from his own emotions and the searing pain in his chest felt like his heart was being ripped out. _Why would Duncan leave that message if it wasn't true? _He paused at the bottom of the staircase and looked back toward Emily's office. _It felt so real. The way she kissed me. The way we talked together. It didn't feel like she was faking it. _He closed his eyes and Duncan's voice invaded his thoughts again. "_You're just too sexy, babe. It's impossible for me to keep my hands off you…I'm glad you came up with the idea of stringing that Hardy kid along for a little while. He seems to have fallen for it." _

Joe shook his head. _I need to get away from here. I can't deal with this right now. I can't think clearly when I'm around her. _He sighed and looked backwards again. _I want to believe her. Maybe after I get some air I can make sense of this. _He dashed up the steps. _Because nothing makes sense right now._

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Kim bit her lip as she saw Joe storm up the steps from the museum basement. _You can't lose your job. _Steeling herself, she rushed over to him. "Joe, wait up."

"I don't have time right now." His expression was sullen and his eyes were fixed on the museum's main doors.

"This is important." Kim positioned herself in front of him and Joe stopped short.

"What?"

She hesitated. "I-I'm not sure how to say this..."

"How about you just spit it out, because I have to get out of here."

Kim nodded. "That's probably the best way. Joe, I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you, but Emily is two-timing you."

He looked into Kim's eyes for the first time. "What do you know?"

"She's seeing Duncan. She has been all along." Kim started wringing her hands and she swallowed hard. "It's a secret, because...well, because he's a professor and he could get in real trouble." She stole a glance at Joe's stormy face. "I'm sorry. She felt that pretending to date you would be the perfect cover, but I just can't let this go on. You're too nice of a guy, Joe."

He shook his head. "Yeah. Thanks, but I already know. Apparently Duncan wasn't as discreet as he should have been."

"Oh. Well, good, I guess." Kim shifted nervously. "I mean, it's better that you know."

Before Joe could reply, Emily emerged at the top of the staircase. She'd clearly been crying. She gave Joe a pleading look and started toward him, but he turned and began to walk in the opposite direction, his emotions too raw to even be in the same room with her. Emily paused, then reached into her purse for her car keys and headed through the main doors. Joe watched her through the floor to ceiling windows as she made her way to the parking lot. He looked at Kim. "Thanks for your honesty. I appreciate it."

She couldn't meet his eyes. She went back to the reception desk, while Joe left the building. As he crossed the sidewalk, he could see Emily climbing into Stacey's Subaru and putting the keys in the ignition.

"Time for me to do some detective work of my own," he said in a grim whisper as he headed out the door towards his own vehicle.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe watched as Emily parked the Subaru in front of Duncan's house. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel as she got out and hurried up the front steps. He watched her knock and wait, rubbing her hands up and down her arms to try and stay warm in the chilly afternoon air. The door opened and Duncan appeared. Emily stepped past him and Duncan quickly shut the door. Joe closed his eyes tightly against the searing pain that ripped through him again. _Yeah, you're some detective, Hardy. Can't even tell when you're being played. _He shook his head_. Man, she is some piece of work. She had everyone fooled._ He made a u-turn in the middle of the street and headed home.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"So, what brings you here, Emily?" Duncan asked as he made his way across his living room.

"You've got to be kidding me!" She tossed her purse onto his sofa and put both hands on her hips as she gave him an icy glare. "Let's start with the phone message. What in the world was that all about?"

Duncan poured himself a drink of Scotch and smiled at her. "I take it Joe heard?"

"You know he did." Her tone was accusatory as she walked toward him. "What's the big idea? What were you trying to accomplish with that? Don't you like Joe?"

Duncan shrugged. "I have nothing against him personally."

"Then why?"

"He would have ruined my plans."

"What plans? What are you talking about?"

Duncan set his drink down and beckoned to Emily. "Come with me and I'll show you."

She paused. "No. I'm not interested. What I want you to do is go see Joe and explain that the phone call was your idea of a sick joke. And I want you to do it immediately."

He laughed harshly. "That won't be happening."

She picked up her purse and turned toward the door. "Fine. Then you leave me no choice. I'll have to report you to Mr. Perriton and everyone else above him. You won't get away with this."

Duncan crossed the room and grabbed Emily by the arm so quickly, she had no time to react. He stared down at her with eyes so full of anger, she gasped out loud.

"You won't be doing any of that, Emily Elizabeth _Campbell._"

"Let go of me," she protested, trying to pull away. "And what are you talking about? My last name is Clark."

Duncan shook his head and reached down with his free hand, for her student internship application on the coffee table. He shoved it at her. "You are a Campbell. It's right here in black and white under your mother's maiden name. Don't try to deny it. You were named after _her_, Emily Elizabeth."

"I was named after my grandmother. My _father's_ mother. Not after some girl in an ancient Scottish legend."

"Don't you be calling my family's history a legend. Elizabeth Campbell tried to destroy my clan." Duncan's eyes took on a wild look and Emily again tried to pull away from him, but he held her even more tightly. "And now she's doing it again...through you. It's you, isn't it, Emily? You're the one bringing all the trouble on the museum. You're the one who's been cursing me. You're trying to finish off what Elizabeth started, aren't you?"

He dragged her across the floor and she stumbled against him as she fought to break his hold on her. He pressed her into a door and reached down to turn the knob. "It's not going to work. Not this time." He shoved her into the room and Emily gasped at what she saw. The room had been transformed into a replica of a great hall in an old Scottish castle. She turned swiftly as she heard the turning of a tumbler and saw Duncan removing a key from a substantial deadbolt lock.

"What is this? What are you doing?"

"Don't you see, Miss Campbell? My clan's history is about to change. We are finally going to be avenged." He smiled as he moved toward the large table taking up most of the room and reached for a decanter in the middle of it. His eyes met Emily's as he held up an ox horn and began to pour the garnet colored contents of the decanter into it.

"That's Rory Mor's horn!" Emily gasped. "You took it? You're the one who stole the artifacts?"

"No, my dear, I did not steal the artifacts." Duncan stepped around the table. "I merely took them into custody from the person who did."

"You know who did this?"

"Yes, and he will be punished, as will anyone who tries to ruin me. Yourself included." He raised the horn and said loudly, before bringing it to his lips. "I now proclaim myself King of Scotland and Lord of the Isles."

Emily watched as he downed the contents of the horn_. Maybe that will make him drunk off his rocker and I can find a way out of this lunatic asylum._

Duncan set the ox horn on the table, then reached for something white and lacy and tossed it at her. "Here, put this on."

"I'm not putting anything on. I'm leaving."

He laughed, loud and long. "You still don't get it, do you? You're not going anywhere. You're part of my plan." He pulled a handgun from his pocket and clicked off the safety. "Put it on. Or you die...and then Joe does."

With shaking hands, Emily reached for the fabric. It turned out to be a long white wedding dress. She looked at Duncan questioningly.

"Put. It. On."

Hastily, she removed her jeans and sweater and stepped into the dress while he watched her with a leisurely grin on his face. "Very nice body, Emily. I'll bet Joe's been enjoying it. Must make him sick to think you were only whoring around with him."

She glared at Duncan as she adjusted the shoulders and reached around to zip up the garment.

"I'll get that for you."

Duncan moved behind her and Emily swallowed hard while he zipped up the dress, letting his fingers trail over her bare skin. He held her hair to his face and inhaled deeply while she tried to quell the bile that was rising from her stomach. He stepped back and handed her a pair of silken slippers. "Put these on, too. Then we'll be ready to go."

"Go where?"

A lurid grin turned up the corners of his mouth. "To where I can avenge my clan and Lachlan MacLean once and for all. I will do what he was stopped from doing. No Campbell bitch is going to ruin us again."

_He's crazy,_ she thought. _He's a stark, raving, lunatic and there's nothing I can do about it. Nobody even knows where I am. And he's made it so that Joe won't care. What am I going to do? How am I going to get away?_


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: **Thanks for the wonderful reviews, Jackie, Leya and Virtute! I love reading your reactions! Yes, sadly Duncan has gone over the edge...which makes for a more intense story, I hope. LOL And poor Joe is having a hard time, too. Luckily Frank is still keeping a level head. Hope you enjoy this next chapter! Thanks for reading!

Chapter 36

"Coming!" Frank reached the front door after the bell rang twice and opened it. "Yes?"

A uniformed man gestured toward the driveway. "Dropping off a car for a Miss Emily Clark. We knew it was a rush job, so we finished the body work this morning."

"Oh, yeah. Thanks." Frank took the clipboard the man extended to him and signed it.

As he handed it back, the man spoke. "We found a bunch of papers and books in the trunk when we were fixing her taillights. I put them in the back seat. They got thrown around quite a bit during the accident, but the trunk didn't pop open, so I think everything is still there."

"Great," Frank responded.

"You want to take a look at the vehicle before I leave?" The man stepped down from the porch. "I need someone to inspect it before I can sign off on it. Then we'll just bill the insurance directly."

Frank nodded and followed the man down the front steps. He smiled as he surveyed Emily's little red Honda. "Wow, you guys did an amazing job. You'd never know it was in an accident."

The guy shrugged. "These imports do pretty well in collisions. It actually looked a lot worse than it was. Mostly cosmetic." He handed the clipboard back to Frank and gestured to a spot near the bottom of the paper. "If you could just initial that."

Frank took the pen again as the man fished Emily's car keys out of his pocket. "We left her books and papers in the back seat. I hope that's okay."

"I'm sure it is. Thank you." He shook the man's hand and began to walk back to the house. He paused as he reached the front steps. _Papers? You don't suppose... _

Frank returned to the car as the auto body guy drove his tow truck down the street. Opening Emily's door, he reached into the back seat and grabbed a folder. Placing it on the trunk, he began going through the contents of the file. He stopped when he scanned an official looking form. _Oh my gosh...this is it. This is what the guy was looking for._

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"Where are we going?" Emily stared out the window of Duncan's car as they approached the coastline. Her arms were tied behind her back and her feet were bound together, but he had her upright in the front seat with the seatbelt fastened across her lap.

"You'll find out soon enough." Duncan hummed a little tune as he pulled off the main road. "And don't get any ideas about trying to escape. I promise I'll shoot you if you do, and my next step will be to go to your boyfriend's house and kill him." He turned his head and gave her a cold stare. "I swear it, Emily."

She swallowed hard. She might not be getting out of this alive, but she was going to do everything in her power to make sure Joe did. "You don't have to worry about him anymore. You took care of that with your sick little message."

He laughed. "Yeah, that was a stroke of pure genius. Ought to give him nightmares for the rest of his life thinking of you and me together." He let his gaze roam over the filmy material of the wedding dress she was wearing. "And if you weren't a damned Campbell, I'd definitely act out a few of those romantic fantasies with you."

She sighed quietly. _Thank goodness for small favors._

He stopped the car and got out, locking the door behind him. Emily struggled violently with the ties around her wrists and ankles, but to no avail. She was trapped.

Duncan came around and released her seatbelt, letting her tumble out unceremoniously onto the sandy road. He laughed as he pulled her to her feet. "Deserted this time of year. Makes it all the more convenient." He loosened her ankles ties and dragged her across the sand to a pier where a small motorboat was docked. "Get in."

She stared at him with defiant eyes and he gave her a little shove. "Get in, I said! Unless you want your boyfriend dead within the hour."

She stepped gingerly into the boat and fell to the bottom as it swayed and she couldn't reach out to balance herself. Duncan laughed again as he untied the boat and pushed it away from the dock.

"And now my dear, the legend of Elizabeth Campbell will be replayed in its entirety. With the ending it was supposed to have had the first time."

Horror washed over Emily as she realized Duncan's plan. He was going to abandon her. She looked towards the open ocean and saw a shoal in the distance. Duncan followed her gaze.

"You catch on quickly. It's not Lady's Rock, but it will be soon. And, it's right where I am about to leave the symbolic bride of Lachlan MacLean. Then my clan can finally have the last laugh."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe exited the van, slammed the door, and stormed up the walkway to his house. He didn't even notice Emily's Honda parked in the driveway.

"There you are. Finally," Frank said as his brother pushed past him in the kitchen and headed straight for the refrigerator.

Frank felt the anger coming off him in waves. "What's wrong?"

Joe pulled out a bottle of beer and popped the top. "I don't want to talk about it." He took a healthy swig.

Frank let it go for the moment. "Listen Joe, I've found it. I found the paper Emily's intruder was looking for."

"Swell," he replied, taking another swallow.

"It's an insurance claim, filled out for the stolen artifacts." He picked it up off the kitchen table. "It was filled out before the thefts took place and dated a week before the night of the banquet. It's been in Emily's trunk the entire time. The mechanics found it when they were fixing her car." He looked up at Joe. "And guess who the culprit is?"

"Can't possibly guess."

"Perriton. His signature is on it."

"Great. Call Collig. Have him arrested. Case over."

"Joe, what's going on?"

"I told you, I'm not in the mood to discuss it."

Frank gazed at him intently. "It's Emily, isn't it? Did you two have a fight or something?"

Joe snorted. "Or something."

"I can't believe it's anything serious. You get along so well. She doesn't seem annoyed by any of your annoying habits."

"Yeah, I thought so, too. Until her boyfriend called and left her a dirty message on her answering machine at work. All details about what they did in bed last week. Told her to come over today and use her very own key to let herself in for some more fun. Unfortunately for them...I'm the one who heard it."

"Her boyfriend?"

"Yep, none other than Duncan MacLean. Apparently they have quite the thing going on and I'm the cover. That way nobody gets suspicious about the whole student-professor thing."

"I don't believe it."

Joe shrugged. "I heard it myself. And then, when I was leaving the museum, Kim came up and told me. She thought I should know the truth. I'm glad somebody did."

"That's a bit convenient, isn't it? She comes and tells you right after you hear the message on Emily's answering machine?"

Joe took another swig of his beer. "I'm done with her."

"I'm still not buying it. Not with the way she looks at you."

"Believe what you want. As Dad always says, 'the facts don't lie.'"

"I don't think you have the facts. I think you were set up."

"Really? Well, explain this then. After I confronted Emily about the message, she left the museum. I followed her. To Duncan's house."

"So? You don't think she wants to talk to him about this?"

Joe gave a harsh laugh. "You're being naïve. She was playing me and it's over."

"Joe, how did Emily get into Duncan's house?"

"What?"

"When you followed her there...how did she get in?"

"She knocked on the door, Duncan opened it, she went inside."

"She knocked?"

Joe sighed. "Yes, she knocked."

"But you told me that Duncan told Emily to let herself in when she came to his house tonight. If she had a key, why would she knock?"

"Maybe she forgot it."

Frank shook his head. "No. She doesn't have a key. Because that message was a load of crap."

Joe rolled his eyes. "I saw her go into Duncan's house with my own two eyes." He headed for the swinging door of the kitchen, beer in hand.

"I'm still not buying it, Joe." Frank watched as his brother waved his hand at him dismissively and left the room. "Not buying it for one second. And I'm going to get to the bottom of it, right now," he said aloud as he headed for Fenton's office.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe entered the living room and flopped on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table. A football game was on TV, but he was only glanced at it. The telephone rang, and he sighed. It rang again, and he shouted for Frank. When he got no response, and the phone jangled for the fourth time, Joe heaved himself off the sofa and crossed the room to answer it. "Hello?" he said angrily into the receiver.

"Um, is this the Hardy residence?" asked a female voice on the other end of the line.

"Yeah," Joe replied.

"May I speak with Joe, please?"

"You got him." He tried to keep the note of impatience out of his voice.

"Hi, this is Stacey Kennedy, Emily's roommate," she began. "I was wondering if I might speak with her."

"And why would you think she's here?"

"Um, well," Stacey hesitated. "I thought...I mean...aren't you two... together?"

"Not anymore," Joe said in a curt tone. "Why don't you call her boyfriend's house?"

"Boyfriend?" Stacey souded baffled. "What boyfriend?"

"Oh, you don't know either? So, I'm not the only one she lied to?" Joe shook his head. "Duncan MacLean. Call him."

"Duncan?" Stacey's voice rose. "Duncan, her boss? Why would you think he's her boyfriend?"

"Oh, maybe it was the message he left on her phone at work," Joe said. "Something about meeting him in his apartment after work last Tuesday and having a little fun. Him going on and on about how much he missed her and couldn't wait to be with her again. I'd have to be an idiot not to figure it out."

"Then you're an idiot," she retorted, "because she's not seeing Duncan." She paused. "Joe, Emily was with me and some of our other friends in the library last Tuesday. She was working on a paper for her Archival Conservation Techniques class. We stayed there until the library closed, and then we went home. I promise you, she was nowhere near Duncan."

"And how do I know you're not just covering for her?"

"Are you kidding me? Do you want me to round up everyone who was there so you can question them? Hook me up to a lie detector if you want. She wasn't with Duncan. There's no way she could have been. And besides, she has no feelings for Duncan. At all. She never has." Stacey's voice rose. "Geez, how could you even think she was dating him? You're the only guy she's even mentioned liking for a long time."

"Why did you call here? Why are you looking for her?"

"I can't find her. She was supposed to meet me two hours ago to give me my car back. She knows I have a class on campus at four-thirty." Stacey sighed. "Emily's never late, Joe. Never."

"Yeah, well don't worry about it. I saw her go to Duncan's house earlier this afternoon. I followed her there. She went inside. I'm guessing they lost track of time."

"What? Listen, if he left her the kind of message you're talking about, the first thing she'd do would be to confront him about it."

"Somehow I doubt that's what she went there to do." He took another swig of the beer he'd been nursing. "I didn't stick around to find out."

"You left?" Stacey voiced wavered. "You know, maybe she's better off without you. You obviously don't trust her at all. She deserves more than that."

Joe sighed. "Okay Stacey, you're right. I should have tried harder to figure out what was going on. But one of her other co-workers also told me she was seeing him. Who am I supposed to believe?"

Stacey's voice was soft. "Emily. You're supposed to believe Emily." She paused. "Now, I'm really scared. The lunatic that's been after her...suppose it's Duncan? What if this whole thing was a trap and you two just fell into it?"

Joe's stomach dropped to his feet as fear suddenly gripped him. "Okay, listen," he said. "You stay right where you are, in case she calls. My brother and I will go to Duncan's. I'll get to the bottom of this, no matter what it is. I'll find her, I promise."

"Thanks, Joe," she replied.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

_This can't be happening. This can't be happening._ Emily struggled to maintain her hold on the slippery rock as Duncan sped away in his motorboat. _He's beyond insane. How could he possibly think leaving me on this rock is revenge for something that happened over two hundred years ago and had nothing to do with him? Even the guy who pulled this stunt originally would think Duncan was insane._ She fumed_. How did I not see this coming?_

Emily looked down at the sodden silk slippers he made her put on. _These have got to go. Nothing like wet silk to make you lose your balance._ She kicked them off and watched them disappear into the swirling foam around the rock. _The water is so dark._ She gulped and looked toward the sky. Storm clouds were gathering, almost completely blotting out what little daylight was left. She turned to look at the shore. Duncan had exited the boat and was now seated on the shore...waiting. Anger rose in Emily to a height she'd never known before. _He's going to stay here. He wants to watch me die._


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N: **Thanks for the feedback Jackie and Virtute! I love your comments! When I first read this old Scottish legend, I knew I wanted to work it into a story. What a perfectly creepy way to try to get rid of someone. Fortunately, Duncan rose to the occasion for me. LOL And yes, Joe's feeling vulnerable and hurt, but that's where his big brother steps in. They always have each other's back. My favorite characteristic of these two brothers...their closeness. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks so much for reading!

Chapter 37

Joe hurriedly hung up the living room phone and was headed to his father's office where he could overhear Frank having a phone conversation on Fenton's private line, when the doorbell rang. Joe sighed and threw it open. He found Kim standing there, her face tear-streaked and her expression desperate.

"Kim. What are you doing here?"

"Joe, I'm so sorry. I can't go through with this. I can't. Emily is too sweet and you really are too nice of a guy."

"What are you talking about?"

"Emily isn't seeing Duncan. She never was. Duncan called and threatened me with my job if I didn't tell you that." She hung her head. "I need my job. My mom is too poor to send me to school and internships are hard to come by."

"Wait a minute, are you saying you made the whole thing up?"

"Yes." Kim's voice was barely above a whisper and Joe had to strain to hear her. "Duncan told me what to say. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Panic washed over him. "Do you have any idea what you've done? The danger you may have put her in?" Joe's voice rose. "And I left her there. I left her at Duncan's because I thought she was cheating on me."

Kim burst into tears and Frank came out of his father's office, a concerned expression on his face.

"Joe? What's going on?"

Joe looked at his brother, his eyes wide and terror filled. "Frank, I've just made the worst mistake of my life. I have to find her. I have to find her now."

OOOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily stared at Duncan reclining on the beach as he lazily watched her try to keep her tenuous grip on the slippery rock. She thrust out her chin in defiance. _He's going to be sorely disappointed, because I don't intend to die out here. This sick plan didn't work the first time some idiot tried it, and it's not going to work now._ She sighed. _I'm going to have to pray for the same kind of miracle Elizabeth Campbell had in order to be rescued_. She snorted_. Fat chance I have of someone just "happening by"._

She looked down into the churning water, as it gradually crept higher along the sides of the rock. _The current is so strong, I don't even know if I can swim in it. _She glanced back at Duncan. _He'd notice for sure if I tried. Then he'd kill me immediately and go after Joe. _Her eyes filled with tears. _Joe. I wish he were here; he'd save me._ She sighed_. What does it matter, he hates me anyway. He's the last person on earth who'll be looking for me. But at least he'll be safe that way. _She glanced back at Duncan. _Maybe he really has figured out a way to commit the perfect crime._

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"Hurry, Frank. We don't have time," Joe urged.

"I'm driving as fast as I can," Frank assured him.

Joe slammed his hand against the dashboard. "How could I have done that? How could I have said those things to her?"

"You were upset," Frank said, trying to calm him down. "You thought she was using you."

"I should have known better." Joe leaned his head against the back of the seat. "The way I yelled at her...the things I accused her of..."

"Joe..."

"And she just stood there. Just looked at me." He sighed. "I thought she wasn't saying anything because she was guilty. Now I think it's because she was in shock. Or afraid."

Frank pulled up in front of Duncan's house and turned off the engine. "I'm sure she'll forgive you. You're both victims here."

Joe opened the door and jumped to the ground. "That's what I'm so worried about," he said as he dashed past the Subaru still parked in Duncan's driveway and up to the front door.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily struggled to regain her grip on the jagged rock as the rushing tide whirled around her knees. It tangled the long white wedding dress between her legs, and caused her to stumble repeatedly from the pressure it exerted against her limbs. _I ought to try and rip this thing off. It's going to drag me under for sure. Of course, maybe it will help convince the authorities my death wasn't an accident. Something tells me they don't have too many bodies washing ashore in wedding gowns, like some sort of demented virgin sacrifice._

She shivered as the wind picked up. She could still make out Duncan's silhouette on the shore, but the light was growing dimmer by the minute. _Maybe when it gets dark, I can slip into the water quietly and try to head for shore further down the beach. _She shuddered in fear at the thought of trying to swim in the dark water. _No, I can't think about that. _She glared at Duncan_. And I can't let him win._ _Just a little longer. Until it's truly nighttime, and the tide gets higher. It's my only chance._

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe banged on Duncan's front door and got no response. He tried the handle and found it locked. He turned back to Frank, who was already removing his lock-pick from the pocket of his jeans. He quickly manipulated the lock and the door popped open. They stepped inside, and Joe began calling Emily's name while Frank clicked on the lights.

"I don't think anybody's here," he said.

"Stacey's car's still here." Joe looked around the room frantically. "Duncan's isn't. He took her somewhere. Where?" He turned to Frank. "Where is she?"

"Calm down," Frank ordered. "Panicking isn't going to help Emily right now." He began searching the room. "There's got to be something here that will give us a clue." He spotted a piece of paper sticking out from underneath the coffee table and snatched it up and began reading while Joe went down the hall to look in the other rooms.

"Crap," Frank said as he read over Emily's internship application. Her mother's maiden name had been circled in red. Campbell. "Joe?"

"Frank, get in here!" His brother's voice was urgent.

Frank hurried down the hall and stopped short at the door to Duncan's Scottish castle room. "Holy..."

Joe looked down and saw Emily's clothing strewn on the floor along with her purse. He saw red. "Son of a bitch!" He looked up at Frank. "I swear, if he's so much as laid one finger on her, he's a dead man!"

Frank was still trying to take in the scene in front of him. The large fireplace, the table taking up almost the entire room, the rushes scattered across the floor, the swords hanging on the wall. "The man's a complete nut." His eyes wandered to the table where he spotted the empty bottle of wine and Rory Mor's horn. "The artifacts. He has the artifacts."

"He was behind this. Him and Perriton."

Frank nodded. "It looks like it."

"I let her walk in here. I _watched _her walk in here. If anything happens to her, I'll never forgive myself."

"We can't think like that now. We need to concentrate. We need to think." Frank began to pace the floor. "Okay, now obviously Duncan has a problem with Emily being a Campbell."

"What?"

"Oh, here. I found this in the other room. Emily's mom's maiden name is Campbell."

"Frank, it's that story. The one about the girl and the rock from that poem. Remember? She was a Campbell."

Frank pressed his lips together in a thin line. "I think you're right."

Joe began looking around the room. "He had to plan this. It wasn't done on a whim. He knew I was in the office. He set me up. He wanted me out of the picture so he could get to her."

Joe moved to a small desk Duncan had in the corner of the room. He rifled through the papers on top of it and finding nothing, began pulling out the desk drawers. "There's got to be something here."

Frank moved to his side. "Hang on. Let's try and be methodical about this." He started going through the papers one by one.

"Here. These are maps of the coastline." Joe waved them in Frank's direction.

"Okay, that's a good start. See if he's marked anything on any of them."

While Joe was looking, Frank opened a manila file. "I've got a boat registration here."

"There's nothing on these maps." The panic in Joe's voice was growing.

"Then we keep looking." Frank stood and ran his hands over the top of the desk. A piece of paper fluttered to the ground. Joe caught it. It had two lines of numbers on it. Joe looked at it, then back at the map.

"This is it. These are coordinates."

Frank knelt down and they spread the map out on the floor. They traced the latitude and longitude coordinates with their fingers until they met.

"It's right off the coast, not too far from here," Joe said

Frank nodded. "I know the area. It's kind of remote. Not popular with the surfers or beach crowd because it's a little too rocky. Fishermen like it though."

"That's where he's taken her. I can feel it."

"And that's where we're headed." Frank stood. "We'll get her. Don't worry."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

The wind whipped Emily's already battered body against the rocks as the rain pelted her from above. Her hand slipped and she nearly tumbled into the surf. The daylight was all but gone, and the water was swirling around her waist now. She shuddered as she looked down into the murky depths. _It's so dark._ She could feel the blood on her hands from gripping the jagged rocks. Her feet were stinging in the salty ocean water, so she knew they must be cut as well_. Great, blood in the water. I really wish we hadn't watched "Jaws" the other night. _She shivered. _What does it matter? I can't keep doing this. I can't hold on forever. And nobody is ever going to think to look for me out here. _She leaned her head against the rock as the wind blew forcefully. _You win, Duncan._

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"Step on it, Frank. I feel like we're running out of time."

Frank peered through the windshield as the wipers moved back and forth. "I'm going as fast as I can. Getting into an accident isn't going to help us find Emily."

The CB radio crackled and Fenton's voice was heard. Joe picked up the microphone. "Dad?"

"Yeah, it's me. Collig's bringing Perriton in for questioning. We should get to the bottom of this soon. How's it going on your end? Have you found Emily yet?"

"No, but we're almost there."

"Okay, let me know when you do. I'll have Collig send some men and we'll get there as soon as possible."

"We're turning off the main road right now." Joe rolled down his window. "Frank, I see Duncan's car."

"Son, please be careful. Don't take any chances. With your life or with Emily's."

"I'll be fine, Dad. Over and out." Joe turned off the CB before Fenton could object anymore.

Frank slowed down as he approached Duncan's vehicle. "I don't see him."

Joe opened the door to the van and jumped out. Frank sighed and turned off the ignition, then exited and followed his brother. The wind was starting to pick up as the storm intensified. Joe's head whipped around and he searched all over the beach for any signs of either Emily or Duncan. "Where the hell is she?"

A flash of color caught Frank's eye. He nudged his brother. "Over there."

Joe followed Frank's gaze and spotted Duncan sitting in a beach chair. Emily was nowhere in sight. Joe's throat tightened with fear and he swallowed hard. "I don't see her."

"He knows where she is. With this wind howling, we should be able to sneak up on him fairly easily."

The brothers moved silently towards Duncan, and fanned out so that each one of them would be on the opposite side of their target. As they moved within ten feet of him, they could see that Duncan had been drinking. Frank caught Joe's eye and nodded. They both lunged forward and grabbed him. Duncan roared and tried to throw them off, but his coordination was compromised by the alcohol and he fell to the sand. Joe caught him by the collar and dragged him up. "Where is she?" he demanded.

"Where is who?" Duncan smirked, the alcohol heavy on his breath.

"Emily, damn it. Where is she?"

Duncan waved his hand. "She's gone."

Rage boiled up inside of Joe until he saw red. "What do mean 'she's gone'? What have you done with her?"

"Avenged my clan." Duncan smirked again. "She's a Campbell, you know." He spat on the ground. "A Campbell bitch."

Joe punched him in the jaw and Duncan dropped like a rock. As he clutched the side of his face, Joe grabbed his shoulders and yanked him up to a sitting position. "Tell me where she is or I swear I'll kill you."

The rage in Joe's face seemed to clear some of the fog in Duncan's brain. He gestured towards the water. "She's out there."

Joe let go of him and started dashing toward the surf.

"Joe, wait!" Frank called out. He undid his belt and quickly tied Duncan's hands behind his back and then to the beach chair. "Where's the boat?"

"Over the dunes," Duncan slurred. "It's too late, you know. She'll have drowned by now."

Frank tightened the belt around Duncan's wrists so hard he cried out. "For your sake, I sure as hell hope not." Frank shoved him backwards and he lay sprawled in the chair, flat on his back, too drunk to right himself. Frank tore after Joe, who had already spotted the boat at the end of the dock and was quickly untying the ropes. Frank got behind the wheel and started the engine and they headed out in the direction of the shoal.


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, Jackie and Virtute! You always have the greatest comments! And yeah, I'm not really into the whole damsel in distress waiting for the hero to show up either. I'm happiest if she at least tries to do something to save herself. And if she can't, that she has a fighting spirit and tries to hang on. Which is pretty much all Emily can do at this point. LOL Thanks again for reading...two more chapters after this one and it's finally complete!

Chapter 38

Joe's stomach was in knots. The fear gripping him was squeezing his lungs impossibly hard. So hard he could barely breathe. _Where was she? How could MacLean do this to her? How could I have believed him and not Emily?_ Joe held onto the railing of the boat so tightly his knuckles turned white. _If anything's happened to her, it's all my fault. She must hate me._ He peered through the darkness, hoping the lights on the front of the boat would find her soon.

"Joe!" Frank pointed ahead. "Right there on the rock."

Joe stared hard through the driving rain. He saw what looked like a wisp of white fabric floating in the boat's headlights. As the boat neared the rocky island, Joe's heart leapt. It was Emily, up to her waist in water and clinging desperately to the jagged peak of the rock. "Hurry!" Joe's voice was grim.

"I'm trying," his brother called out. "I don't want the rocks to rip open the bottom of the boat."

Joe wasn't listening anymore. He quickly peeled off his shoes and socks and dove off the railing into the inky darkness of the ocean.

"Joe!" Frank shouted, cutting the engine. He watched as his brother surfaced and swam straight for the rocks and Emily. Frank hurriedly pulled out some rope and the ring, ready to throw it to his brother. "Damn it, Joe. I really didn't want to have to save both of you," he muttered.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe dragged himself onto the rocky shoal, ignoring the pain he felt as the waves pounded his body against the unyielding stone. He scrambled up next to Emily and put his arms around her. "Emily?" he called over the roar of the sea. "Emily, I'm here. It's Joe."

She turned her head in disbelief and blinked her eyes, almost swollen shut from the wind and salty spray of the ocean. "Joe?"

"Yes, honey, it's me." He reached up and tried to loosen her hands from the rock. She cried out as he pried her fingers from the peak. The light from the boat bounced over them and he saw the blood smeared across her palm and fingers. His mouth pressed into a thin line. "It's okay. I've got you now."

"Joe?" she repeated, sounding as if she wasn't quite sure he was real.

"Can you put your arms around my neck?"

She obeyed him as he braced himself against the rocks. He swayed as the next wave pressed against them, the sodden fabric of her wedding dress weighing them both down. He looked back toward the boat, wondering how on earth he was going to get her to it.

As if he understood, Frank turned on the motor and slowly edged closer to the rocks. He cut the engine fifteen feet away and bobbed up and down on the swells. Joe turned to Emily, who seemed only half conscious. He kept one hand firmly around her waist and took her chin in his other hand. "Emily, listen to me. We're going out to the boat now. I'm going to turn you on your back and I'll hold you around your waist. I just want you to relax and trust me. Okay?"

She nodded.

"Good girl." Joe descended further into the water and while Emily clung to his arm, he laid her back gently in the ocean. Her eyes opened wide and a panicked look crossed her face when the cold water swirled around her head. "It's okay," he said in a soothing tone. "I've got you. We don't have to go far."

He side-stroked back to the side of the boat, where Frank reached over the railing for her. "Be careful. She's hurt."

Frank pulled her gently into the boat, and then Joe quickly hauled himself up the ladder in the back. He stumbled forward, his body leaden and numb from the cold water, and reached for Emily. Frank helped them both to sit down, then pulled up the seat cushions, searching in the compartments for something to warm them.

"Here we go," he said, pulling out a wool blanket. He spread it across the shivering couple and returned to the driver's seat, starting the engine and heading quickly back to shore.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"I hear a motor," Fenton called to the police chief from shore. They tried to focus the searchlight into the ocean, but weren't able to see very far. "It's got to be the boys. I hope everything's all right."

"Me too," Collig replied as he looked over his shoulder at an unconscious Duncan being attended by his officers. "Because right now they have a lot of explaining to do."

Fenton ignored him as he continued to scan the horizon, hoping to see some sign of his sons approaching.

Collig sighed and reached for his radio. "Yeah, this is the chief. I need a couple of paramedics down here on the beach, please. We're anticipating more injuries."

The two men heard the motor of the boat power down, and soon it came into view with Frank clearly visible at the helm.

"Where's Joe?" Fenton asked. "And Emily?" He rushed toward the shoreline and waded into the surf.

Frank leaned over the side of the boat. "Don't worry, Dad, everyone's here. Emily and Joe need some help though."

Fenton nodded and gestured for the paramedics, while other officers rushed out to help secure the boat. He watched while they took Emily and carried her semi-conscious form up the beach. He grabbed onto Frank. "What the hell is she wearing?"

Frank shook his head as they both turned to help Joe. "A wedding dress. You're not going to believe what Duncan did."

"He's completely insane," Joe offered. "And as soon as I get the chance, I'm going to kill that bastard with my bare hands."

Fenton reached for Joe's arm and held him back. "Calm down, son. That's not going to help anybody right now. Least of all, Emily."

"Dad, he left her out there to die." Joe's eyes flashed with anger. "He dressed her up like some sort of sacrificial offering and left her on that rock to drown when the tide came in." His voice wavered. "We were almost too late."

Fenton pulled his youngest son into a tight embrace. "You weren't too late. You got her."

Joe nodded. "I'm going with her. She needs to see a doctor."

"So should you," Fenton called after him. "You were in that freezing water, too."

Joe waved his hand dismissively as he jogged up the beach after the paramedics.

Frank stood closer to his father. "I've never seen him this upset over a girl before."

Fenton turned to Frank and said quietly, "I think he's in love with her."

Frank watched as Joe rushed up to the stretcher where the paramedics were checking Emily's vital signs, and dropped to his knees beside her. "What do you know?" He grinned at Fenton. "I actually approve of his choice."

"So do I," Fenton with a laugh.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe held Emily's bandaged hand gently as he stood at the side of her hospital bed. _She looks so small._ _So vulnerable. _He brought her hand to his mouth, kissing it tenderly. She stirred slightly. Joe leaned over and brushed her tousled hair away from her brow, as the door to her room opened slowly. Frank approached them.

"Is she okay?"

Joe nodded. "She's exhausted. They've gotten her warmed up though. She had signs of hypothermia. If she'd been out there much longer..."

Frank placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Don't think about it. She's going to be fine. She's strong. Most people would have panicked in her situation. She didn't."

"She's afraid of dark water." His voice dropped. "I can't imagine what she must have gone through out there. And she thought I'd abandoned her."

"Stop. You can explain it all to her when she wakes up." He changed the subject. "Listen, Collig said Perriton cracked during questioning."

"Then he admitted to this?"

Frank shook his head. "No, he only confessed to the intent to commit insurance fraud. He says he doesn't know who was behind the murder. He also doesn't know who was stalking Emily. He swears it wasn't him."

"It was Duncan." Joe's eyes darkened at the mention of his name. "Hasn't Collig questioned him yet?"

"He can't. Apparently, Duncan is suffering from alcohol poisoning. He's unconscious at the moment. They're trying to stabilize him, but it's going to be awhile before he's capable of answering any questions." Frank grinned at his brother. "Not to mention he has a broken jaw. That might impede his conversation skills a little bit, too."

"He's lucky that's all he has."

Frank put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Listen, I'm going down into the lobby. Dad's been investigating everyone's background on this case and he's expecting some information from some of his European contacts within the hour. Do you want to come with me? Take a break for a minute? She looks like she's sleeping now."

Joe shook his head. "I'm not leaving her."

Frank started to say something, then stopped. "Okay. We'll call you if we find anything."

"If they start to question Duncan, let me know."

"Will do." Frank patted him on the back. "Why don't you get some rest, too?" He grinned. "That bed looks big enough for two if you ask me."

Joe turned and smiled. "Thanks, bro. Not sure if the patient in the next bed would appreciate waking up to that."

Frank glanced at the elderly woman asleep on the other side of the room. "Maybe not." He grinned at Joe. "Pull the curtain first."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily opened her eyes slowly. They stung fiercely. She blinked and tried to look around. _Where am I?_ Everything seemed out of focus and the light was dim. She struggled to sit up and felt a pair of strong arms gently restraining her.

"Lie down, sweetheart."

_Joe?_ Emily turned her head towards the sound of the voice. She blinked again, but it was useless. Everything was so fuzzy and her eyelids felt like they had grit behind them. She reached her hand toward his face and touched his cheek gently. "Joe?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

He took her hand, bringing her bandaged palm to his mouth, and kissed it tenderly.

She swallowed hard and tried to speak again, "Joe, is that you?"

"Yes, honey." He reached for a pitcher of water on her bedside table and poured her a small glass. "Don't try to talk just yet." He reached over the bed and lifted her head slightly, while holding the straw to her lips. "Drink this."

Emily obediently swallowed the water, and he eased her back down on the pillows. She watched him as he sat down on the edge of the bed, still trying to understand what had happened and where she was. Joe stroked her hair and her cheek and smiled. "How do you feel?"

"Confused." She cleared her throat. "Wh-where am I?"

"Bayport General. Do you remember the ambulance ride?"

She shook her head. "The last thing I remember was the water." Her eyes clouded. "It was roaring. Like it was alive. It was dark, too." She paused. "I was so scared. I knew I couldn't hold on much longer, but I didn't want Duncan to win."

"You were amazing." Joe's voice was tender. "You didn't give up."

"No. I-I tried to let go. I wanted to try and float with the current." Tears filled her eyes. "But then, it got so cold and the rain got worse. It was like my hands were frozen to the rock. I couldn't move them."

He pressed his lips together, trying to control his emotions. "I'm glad you didn't let go. I don't know if I could have found you if you had."

"How _did_ you find me?"

"Stacey called, wanting to know where you were. She explained that you were with her last week." His voice broke slightly. "I'm so sorry. I never should have doubted you." He leaned his head on the bed railing. "I was such a jerk. The things I said..." He paused when he felt her stroking his hair.

"Joe, this is all Duncan's fault. I would have thought the same thing if I were in your shoes."

He shook his head. "No. There's no excuse." He lifted his head to look at her. "I should have trusted you. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Can I forgive you? You saved my life." She struggled to a sitting position. "Please don't be so hard on yourself."

"You need to lie down," he said with a smile.

"Okay, but only after this." She rested her bandaged hand against his cheek and guided him toward her. Closing her eyes as his lips brushed hers, Emily felt the sting of her own tears as relief and joy flowed through her. Joe's mouth was warm and tender and she felt as if his kiss were healing her battered body. She began to feel drowsy again and very content.

Not taking his lips from hers, Joe eased her back down on her pillows. Emily sighed against his mouth and slid her arms onto his shoulders. He nuzzled her neck and placed little kisses along her jaw. Her eyes felt heavy, but she knew there was one more thing she wanted to clear up before she slept. "Joe?" she murmured.

"Hmmm?" His breath was warm against her ear.

Emily's mind felt hazy and light as she began drifting off to sleep. "I just want you to know I've never slept with anyone before. I'm a virgin."

Her eyes fluttered closed and Joe released her quietly, gazing down at her while the proverbial knife twisted in his heart just a little more.


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N: **Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews, Jackie, TXMedic, Virtute and Leya! I was smiling all day! Joe and Frank definitely approach life differently, don't they? I think that's what I love about their relationship...the dynamic of those two personalities interacting and working together is so much fun. They really allow the other one to be who he is. Thanks so much for reading and commenting. Only one more chapter after this one!

Chapter 39

The door to Emily's room opened and a nurse and doctor entered. Joe looked up. "She just fell asleep not too long ago."

"That's good," the doctor replied. "The drugs will make her drowsy, but I still need to examine her. Perhaps you could wait in the corridor, Mr. Hardy."

Joe leaned down and stroked Emily's hair, then kissed her brow. "Okay, I'll be in the waiting room."

He stepped outside and spotted Frank at the end of the hall, deep in conversation with their father. Joe jogged toward them.

"Is Emily all right?" Fenton wanted to know.

Joe nodded. "The doctor's in there now."

Frank interrupted them to change the conversation. "Joe, we had it all wrong," he said, his eyes flashing. "Look what one of Collig's guys just dropped off for Dad. It arrived at the police station from Scotland this afternoon."

Joe took the newspaper clipping Frank was holding and read it with a puzzled expression. "This is about Mitch?"

"Yes, an article commending him for stopping an attempted theft of the Queen's jewels from a London exhibit," Frank explained.

"The photo?" Joe asked.

"Not the same guy," Fenton replied. "This photo is the real Mitch Kincaid."

"So the Mitch working here is an impostor?"

Frank handed him another piece of paper. This one was a "wanted" sheet from Scotland Yard. "Our Mitch is really Andrew O'Toole. Noted criminal. He has a rap sheet a mile long for every crime you can imagine. Including attempted murder by strangulation."

"Strangulation...that's how Ayres was killed," Joe stated.

"Apparently this guy ran some scam in Scotland that Ayres innocently got mixed up in," Fenton explained. "Our theory is that O'Toole somehow made it to the States, looked up Ayres, and in an effort to keep him quiet, Ayres got him a job at the Bayport Museum."

"Only it backfired somehow," Frank continued.

"And Ayres ended up murdered," Joe finished.

The phone on the nurses' desk rang and the nurse stood and looked toward their little group. "Fenton Hardy?" she asked.

Fenton stepped forward. "That's me."

"Chief Collig is on the phone for you."

Fenton walked over to the desk and Frank pulled Joe aside. "I think Mitch was the one who was after Emily."

Joe nodded. "Yeah, neither Perriton nor Duncan had an injury to his arm. We didn't check on Mitch. What about Evan though?"

Frank waved his hand. "His story checked out. He really did have a chipped elbow. And his alibis during the attacks are fool-proof. That only leaves Mitch...er...Andrew."

"Was he involved in the insurance scam?"

"Don't know. They're still questioning Perriton."

"What was his motive for that?"

"Money," Frank said. "Apparently, the museum hasn't been doing well and Perriton knew it was only a matter of time before they replaced him. He thought taking a notable art piece, like the Rembrandt, would generate too much attention. That's why he opted for these smaller pieces. He actually thought he could get away with it."

Fenton returned from the nurses' desk. "That was Collig. He says Perriton is singing like a canary. Apparently prison time holds little appeal for him. He said that Ayres found out about the insurance fraud scheme and wanted to stop it. Mitch overheard the conversation and decided that he didn't want Ayres reporting it, because he wanted in on it. He murdered Ayres to stop it after the two had an altercation about it. Then he tried to blackmail Perriton. Perriton told him that he'd filled out an insurance claim for the not yet 'stolen' artifacts, but that he'd misplaced it. He mentioned that he thought he might have put it in a stack of papers he'd given to Emily."

"And that's when Mitch decided to go after Emily," Joe interrupted.

Fenton nodded. "Mitch thought that if he got that paper, he'd have Perriton over a barrel. Perriton changed his mind about stealing the artifacts with that claim form unaccounted for. Mitch thought if_ he_ took them and got the form, he'd be able to blackmail Perriton for the insurance money and then some. So he went ahead and took the pieces during the museum banquet."

"Who hit me over the head?" Frank wanted to know.

"Mitch was responsible for all of that. And just like you theorized, he locked you in that storage room so you'd find the hidden staircase leading to Perriton's office and focus your investigation on him."

"So how did Duncan get the artifacts?" Joe asked.

"Perriton has no idea," Fenton said. "He only knows that they disappeared from Mitch's hiding place in the stairwell and that Mitch was blaming Perriton for it. Perriton claims Duncan was not a part of this."

"What about the witch boxes and the charmstones?" Frank asked.

"I'm guessing that was Mitch trying to throw us off track," Joe said.

Frank nodded. "So where is Mitch now?"

"Collig's getting a warrant. Hopefully, they'll have him in custody within the hour." Fenton glanced at his watch. "I think I'll head down to the station. I'd like to be there when they question him. Anybody want to come?"

Joe shook his head. Frank smiled then turned to his father. "I'll stay here with Joe."

Fenton nodded. "Sounds good." He patted Joe on the arm. "Give Emily a hug for me when she wakes up."

"I will, Dad. Thanks."

As Fenton left, Frank turned to Joe. "How about a cup of coffee? You look like you could use it."

"Yeah, let's make it to go. I need to get back to Em."

"To go, it is." Frank put his arm around his brother's shoulders as they headed toward the coffee shop in the main lobby.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Emily felt as if she were in a dream. She felt someone reaching for her wrist and snapping something cold around it. She couldn't seem to move her legs either. She struggled against the fog in her brain to wake up. "W-who's here?" she managed to get out.

"Now, don't you worry, dearie. Everything will all be over soon."

The voice belonged to a female, but the not the nurse that had just taken a blood sample awhile ago. This woman sounded elderly. Emily forced her eyes open. A white-haired woman in a hospital gown was handcuffing her left wrist to the bed rail. Emily snapped out of her stupor, a sense of danger enveloping her. "What do you think you're doing?" She tried to sit up and found her legs had been cuffed to the railings as well. She reached over and shoved the woman away with her free hand.

"Now, now, sweetie, there's no need to get so upset," the woman cooed. "This is just something that has to be done. It's not personal."

"Who are you?" Emily demanded, reaching in vain for the buzzer to summon the nurse.

"Why, I'm your roommate. Didn't you see me in the next bed? I've been waiting for you."

Emily was confused. "Why are you putting these on me?"

The woman moved forward and Emily shoved her backwards again. "You aren't being very nice," the woman scolded. She sighed. "Well, I guess this will have to be good enough. Andrew can deal with you when he gets here." She looked at Emily's baffled expression. "Oh, I'm sorry, you know him by the name Mitch, don't you?"

"Mitch? The security guard from the museum?"

"Yes, that's my son."

Emily's head was swimming. "You're his mother? I thought you had a stroke."

The woman waved her hand. "Just a ploy to get Mitch away from the museum." Her face turned angry. "You hurt him when you cut him with that glass. He couldn't get any treatment and his wound became infected. I had to be in a hospital so he could get the medicine he needed without seeing a doctor." She smiled again. "Of course, it's all worked out nicely now. Thanks to Duncan." She laughed. "He doesn't even know what he's done."

"Mitch was the one who attacked me? Why?"

The woman sighed. "I don't have time to explain that now. As soon as my son is done taking care of Duncan, he'll take care of you. And then all our troubles will be over."

Emily tried to make sense of what she was hearing. She looked at Mitch's mother, who was humming a tune as she walked to her bed and began gathering up her personal belongings. Emily tugged hard at the handcuff with her free hand, to no avail.

"Don't bother, dearie, you won't be able to loosen that. I made sure it was fastened tightly."

Emily began to feel desperate and threw herself as hard as she could against the railing, hoping to move the bed closer to the nightstand so she could reach the buzzer. As she got ready to repeat the action, her hospital door opened and Mitch stepped inside. "There you are you little bitch. You won't get away from me this time."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

As Frank and Joe exited the hospital cafeteria with two Styrofoam cups of coffee, the nurse from upstairs approached them.

"You're the Hardy brothers, aren't you?"

Frank nodded.

"I have an urgent message from your father. He said they couldn't serve the warrant, because Mitch had disappeared. He said you should be on the lookout for him, because they're not sure what he's up to." Her eyes sparkled. "This is turning out to be quite an exciting night. Crystal is going to be really mad she asked me to take this shift for her."

"Yeah," Frank said dryly. "Did my dad say anything else?"

"No..." the nurse was interrupted by an elderly woman in a wheelchair calling out for her.

"Miss? Miss, can you help me?"

"Mrs. Whitaker!" the nurse exclaimed. "What on earth are you doing down here? You're supposed to be in your room." She hurried over to the elderly woman, seated in a wheelchair near the hospital entrance.

"I don't know," she replied. "A nice young man got me out of my bed and brought me down here. He said someone would be by to pick me up before long."

Joe grabbed his brother's arm. "Mrs. Whitaker was the name of the other patient sharing Emily's room," he said, alarm filling him.

The nurse turned. "Yes, that's right. She's supposed to be in room three twenty-eight. Do you know anything about this?"

"Son of a bitch!" Joe swore as he took off as top speed for the stairwell with Frank hot on his heels.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Joe tore down the corridor on the third floor and tried to shove open the door to Emily's room. "Frank, something's in the way."

Frank joined him at the door, both of them pressing against it with all their might, until it gave enough for Joe to slip through. The sight that greeted him made his blood run cold. Mitch was standing at Emily's bedside, his hands around her throat, choking her.

Joe flew at him, explosive rage erupting until he couldn't even see straight. He jumped onto Mitch's back and grabbed him around the throat, pulling his head backwards with all the strength he possessed. Instinctively, Mitch let go of Emily and reached for his own neck, trying to remove Joe's arm. Frank moved to the front of Mitch, got in a hard punch to the gut, and then a swift knee to the groin. Mitch doubled over and both he and Joe fell to the ground.

Mitch's mother jumped in, kicking hard at Joe. Frank grabbed her and held her hands behind her back, while Joe sent Mitch into unconsciousness with two resounding punches to the face.

As Joe shakily got to his feet, two police officers and a doctor managed to slip into the room. The doctor hurried to Emily's side. "Is-is she okay?" Joe managed, as he stumbled over to the bed.

The doctor was bent over her with his stethoscope, listening for a heartbeat and respiration. "She's breathing and her pulse is strong." He examined her neck while Emily's eyes fluttered. "I need to check some things internally, so I'm going to move her for a CT scan."

"Can I come?"

"You'll need to wait here, Mr. Hardy, but we'll keep you updated." He put his hand on Joe's shoulder. "From what I see here initially, it doesn't look bad. I think you got here in time." The doctor stepped away to call for a gurney and Joe leaned over Emily. He kissed her temple briefly and her eyes opened, wild and fearful.

"It's okay, baby. It's all over."

Emily struggled to talk and Joe shushed her. "Don't say anything. The doctors are going to take care of you."

She held up her left hand and Joe finally saw the handcuffs. His eyes darkened with rage and he swiftly turned to the officers. "I need someone with a handcuff key to get these damn things off her. Now!"

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Frank moved into the hall and watched as the orderly dumped Mitch onto a gurney and took him for x-rays and to get his face stitched back together. Frank smiled inwardly. Joe was three for three tonight. Two broken jaws and a broken nose. He watched as Mitch's mother was led away by two police officers. When the elevator doors opened to let them in, Fenton and Collig stepped out.

"What the hell is going on here?" Collig boomed.

"We found your suspect," Frank said. "Do you have that warrant with you? You'll have to add another attempted murder to it. He tried to strangle Emily."

Fenton's jaw dropped. "Is she all right?"

"I think so. They're getting ready to take her for a CT scan now. Joe's with her."

As he said that, the door to Emily's room opened and another orderly wheeled her out into the hall. She was fully conscious and Joe was walking along beside her holding her hand. "I'm going with her," he remarked to Frank.

"I thought the doctor wanted you to wait here."

Joe gave him a look and continued heading down the hall.

"They're going to stop him outside the procedure room," Collig muttered. "And he'd better listen. I don't want to have to haul him in tonight, too."

Fenton chuckled. "He'll behave. I'll make sure of it. Plus, I think he might need a stitch or two on his hand. Looks like he threw some serious punches tonight."

"Bone breaking punches," Frank said. "I'll go with him, Dad, and make sure he gets taken care of."

"Thanks, son. I'll meet you down there in a few minutes."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Twenty minutes later, Fenton wandered downstairs and found Joe resisting the efforts of a resident to clean his wounds while Frank tried to convince him otherwise.

"Son," Fenton said, in his best authoritative father voice. "Quit causing trouble."

"I'm not causing trouble, Dad. I just need to get out of here and see how Emily is."

"Joe, the doctors will come and tell you as soon as they're finished with their tests. If you interfere, you'll just be slowing things down. Let them take care of her."

Joe sighed. "It's hard, Dad. I feel like I let her down tonight. Twice."

"There's no way you could have known what Mitch was planning. None of us did."

Emily's doctor poked his head around the door before Joe could respond. "Mr. Hardy?" All three men raised their heads. The doctor smiled. "Joe?" he clarified.

"Is she okay?"

"She's going to be fine," he smiled. "Her CT results were excellent. She may have some bruising and tenderness around her neck, but there appears to be no internal damage. It looks like her attacker had only choked her briefly before you entered the room. We want to keep her at least twenty-four hours for observation, but if there's no swelling of her trachea after that time, we'll consider discharging her."

Joe's face flooded with relief. "Can I see her?"

"Yes, we'll be returning her to her room shortly and you can wait there for her."

Fenton patted Joe reassuringly on the back. "She's going to be fine. You can stop worrying."

Joe nodded mutely, too overcome to say anything.

Fenton looked at Frank. "I think we know where Joe will be tonight. You want to head down to the station and listen to the questioning?"

"Definitely." Frank moved toward the door. "Because I'm still not exactly certain what's been going on at that museum."


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N: **Thank you for the reviews, Leya, Jackie and Virtute! You all have been amazing with the feedback! I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. I'm happy the real culprit was a bit of a surprise. I had fun with that. As for the next story, it's completely written, but I'm doing a bit of editing, so I hope to have it posted by the end of the month. Thanks again to everyone who is reading! And now...the last chapter.

Chapter 40

Emily moved slowly and deliberately as she got out of the shower in the Hardys' guest bathroom, two nights after her attack. Every part of her body hurt. She wiped the condensation off the mirror with her towel and stared at her face. Her throat was bruised and purple, the area around her eyes was swollen, and her lips were still a bit puffy and painful from being exposed to the elements on the shoal for so long.

She sighed as she finished drying off. She pulled off the towel that she'd wrapped around her hair and winced. Her hands were cut up and doing anything with them took forever. _I guess I could ask Joe to help me dress._ She smiled. _The look on his face would be worth it_. She tried to finger comb her hair. _Although when he sees how I look right now, he'll probably run the other way._ '_Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the biggest fright of all?' _

Emily sighed as she slipped on her undergarments. She followed them with a pair of soft sweat pants and one of Joe's old "Bayport High" t-shirts. _Well, I've got the frumpy look down, that's for sure._ She rummaged through her make-up bag and reached for the concealer. As she dabbed it on the bruises on her face, she sighed. _There isn't enough of this in the world to make me look better. I wonder if they sell it by the vat? _She stepped away from the mirror and sighed again. _I guess it's now or never. Might as well head downstairs._

Emily walked slowly down the upstairs hallway. Even wearing thick socks, the pain in her feet caused her to stop every few seconds so it could subside a bit. When she reached the stairs, she decided to forego all her pride and sat, easing herself down on her bottom. Joe walked into the living room when she was halfway there.

He hurried over to her, the look on his face one of alarm. "Why didn't you call me?"

Emily's face grew red with embarrassment. "Um, my I slept longer than I thought I would and besides, I didn't want to bother you while you were eating dinner."

"Bother me? Are you kidding?" Joe climbed the stairs and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her into the living room. "You are never bothering me, understand? I want to help you. I'm here to take care of you."

He sat down on the couch, keeping her in his lap. Emily leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed. "This feels so nice."

Joe held her tightly as he reached up and turned off the light on the end table. "Yes, it does. How about if we stay like this for a week?"

She giggled. "That sounds so good to me right now. If I don't move, maybe everything will stop hurting for a little bit."

Joe leaned back and surveyed her bruises and cuts. His eyes dropped to the purple marks on her neck, the shape of Mitch's fingers clearly visible against her pale skin and his eyes grew dark.

Emily's eyes filled with tears and she quickly wiped them away. "Darn it, why do I always cry in front of you?"

Joe seemed baffled. "What?"

"Cry. I'm always crying in front of you. Since the day we met." She sniffled. "Now I'm going to look even worse than I already do. I'm not a pretty crier."

Joe leaned his head back and laughed at the expression on her face. "Oh, baby, you have got to be kidding. You are so incredibly beautiful I have to pinch myself whenever I look at you because I can't believe you're mine." He kissed her softly. "You're beautiful."

She felt her eyes filling up again and she smiled through her tears. "See what I mean?"

He gently brushed them off her cheeks with his thumb. "Beautiful."

"Joe..."

"So incredibly beautiful," he murmured against her ear. Emily shivered. He covered her lips with his own and kissed her tenderly, taking care not to use too much pressure against her still sore mouth. Joe felt her go boneless against him as he pulled her into his chest more fully and deepened the kiss.

He heard someone clearing their throat in the distance, but ignored it as Emily's arms went around his neck and she intensified the kiss even more.

"Um, sorry to interrupt, but we thought you might like to hear the latest on the case."

Fenton's voice penetrated through Joe's hazy brain. He felt Emily abruptly pull away from him and he leaned his head back against the sofa and sighed. "You guys suck, you know that?"

Fenton chuckled as he turned on the table lamp and he and Frank sat down in a chair opposite the couch. "We just thought you might like to know. Mitch hasn't been saying much. He really isn't able to talk yet." He shot a glance in Joe's direction. "They had to wire his jaw shut."

"However, Mitch's mother has been another story. She told the police everything they wanted to know and then some," Frank added. "And it corroborates Perriton's story. Mitch was purely in it for blackmail. And, revenge." He looked pointedly at Emily. "He felt you messed everything up by getting away from him in your apartment and surviving the car wreck."

Emily shivered and Joe held her closer.

"What about the charmstones? Did you learn anything about those?" Joe asked.

Frank nodded. "Professor Ayres had them sent here to be in the exhibit. After Mitch murdered him, he used them to capitalize on Duncan's fears. He'd seen how superstitious Duncan was and he thought that would be a good way to mess with him and make him think that everything happening was part of some ancient curse."

Emily smiled wryly. "Which he did. Only he blamed me for it."

"Yeah," Frank said. "As for Duncan, he's just plain crazy. No other explanation. He'll be getting the help he needs at a psychiatric hospital in Scotland."

"Mitch didn't attack him in the hospital like he did me?"

Fenton shook his head. "No, the alcohol poisoning made Duncan too ill. They moved him to ICU, so Mitch couldn't get near him."

Emily sighed. "So, I guess that wraps up the case of the Bayport Museum, huh?"

"I guess so." Joe gave her a gentle hug. "And it was by far one of the most complicated ones we've seen lately."

"See? And when you met me, you thought art was boring," Emily teased.

"My mistake. I find it completely fascinating now," Joe said as he leaned in for a kiss.

"And that's our cue to get out of here," Fenton said as he stood. He looked towards Frank. "Want to watch some football with me in the den?"

"Definitely," Frank replied with a grin. "Good night, you two."

Fenton clicked off the light as he left the room. "And be good."

Joe gave him a huge grin. "Oh, don't worry, Dad. I'm very good."

Fenton rolled his eyes and stepped into the hall as the front door began to open. He started to laugh when he saw his sister Gertrude enter.

"Well, isn't this a fine how do you do?" she huffed. "Didn't anybody remember I was coming home today? I had to get my own ride from the airport. The cab driver is waiting outside, Fenton. Go pay him." She looked at Frank. "And you go get my luggage. And bring your brother with you. There's lots to carry. Where is he?"

Frank stifled a grin. "Um, I think he's in the living room, Aunt Gertrude. Why don't you go in and surprise him? I'm sure he'll love it. He's really missed you."

"Well, isn't that nice to hear? Obviously, he didn't miss me enough to remember to pick me up." She pushed her way down the hall and into the living room, turning on the lights. "Joseph!"

Frank laughed out loud as he heard his aunt's startled gasp and hurried outside to meet his father on the curb.

"You're going to pay for that, you know," Fenton said with a chuckle.

"It'll be worth it. Besides, it's payback for a little something he did to me on that case in LA a couple of months ago," Frank said, as he bent down for a suitcase.

"Frank!" Joe yelled from the front door.

Frank dropped the suitcase. "Um, Dad? I think I'm going to go hang out with Callie tonight."

"Here, take my car," Fenton said, pulling his keys from his pocket as Joe started down the walk toward his brother. "It's closer."

He laughed as Frank jumped behind the wheel and pulled away just as Joe smacked the trunk hard with both hands.

"Fenton, what on earth is going on around here?" Gertrude called from the front door. "And who is that strange girl in our living room in her pajamas?"

"Hang on Gert, I'll explain it all to you in a minute," Fenton called back. "Keep your shorts on," he added, under his breath.

Joe, overhearing Fenton's last remark, turned to his dad and laughed out loud.

Fenton put his arm around his youngest son. "Shall we go introduce your aunt to Emily?"

Joe chuckled as they headed up the path to the front door. "They've already met. And I'm not sure either one of them will get over it anytime soon."

"Just another typical evening in the Hardy home," Fenton said and smiled.

THE END


End file.
